Broken Glass
by Panamint
Summary: Dick Grayson has always been a perfectionist. But what happens when perfectionism goes too far?
1. Introduction

**_Broken Glass_**

**DISCLAIMER: DC owns 'em, unfortunately. If they ever find out about this, they'll probably sue me. Or at least try to take me for a ride... what kind of ancient slang is that, 'take me for a ride'?! That's it. No more Abbott and Costello movies.**

**Anyway, this is a continuation from _Prologue_. In that story, Dick says he's fifteen, but I sorta changed it since then. This story starts when he's thirteen and ends when he's fourteen, but other than that everything should stay the same. Sorry 'bout that.**

**Also (this is the last note, I swear), the content of some of this story may be slightly disturbing, blah-blah-blah, please read with caution. Thank you. Now read.**

* * *

Taunts. The school days always started with taunts. It never failed—every day when he walked in through those doors, some moron would inevitably shout out "Hey, Circus Boy!" or try to trip him in the hall, or something like that. 

_Why did summer vacation have to end so fast?_

Not that he wasn't used to this. It had been happening every day since he'd started attending this stupid school, and all schools that Bruce had enrolled him in before that.

He was used to it, alright.

But he still hated it.

He couldn't even fight back—oh, no. He couldn't break some guy's nose and tell him to stuff it, though that's certainly what he'd _like _to do. That would prove what a good fighter he was, prove he wasn't just the resident geek, and possibly give away his _other_ identity. Bruce would flip out if that happened.

Of course, it didn't help that his teachers hated him as much as the students did. They were used to teaching rich kids, and as far as they were concerned, Dick Grayson didn't belong there. He belonged at the circus with the rest of the 'freaks'—they wouldn't mind watching him perform, but actually _associating _with him was a different matter entirely. The same principle applied to just about anyone else he'd ever met here in Gotham.

Except Barbara and Commissioner Gordon, of course, but that didn't help with the situation at school, especially since Babs was away at college at the moment.

So he had no choice but to live with the taunting and teasing every single school day, probably from now until he finished high school—maybe even college, depending whether he attended an ordinary school or one of these fancy expensive ones filled with stuck-up rich kids.

Maybe he'd just skip college altogether…

No, he couldn't do that. Bruce would murder him.

_Bruce, Bruce, Bruce! That's all I hear! _Dick thought bitterly. He shoved his books haphazardly into his locker. _Actually, all I hear is **Bruce **__ordering me around: 'Do this', 'do that', and then 'do it better'!_

Dick slammed his locker door shut and headed for his first class, trying not to stomp his feet as he went.

_Does he ever ask **me** for **my** opinion about anything? No! All I get are orders, orders and more **orders**!_

He had every right to be angry, really. For the past five years—ever since he was eight years old—Bruce Wayne had been right there. Taking care of him, yes, teaching him things and making sure there was a roof over his head. Unfortunately, these all came at a price.

And, as Dick was soon to find out, a very hefty price it was.

"…Richard, would you mind getting your head out of the clouds and rejoining us here on Earth? Please?"

It wasn't the sound of his teacher's voice that brought him back to reality, but rather the sound of the other students' laughter. And, of course, the fact that the teacher didn't really try to keep them quiet.

"Uh, yes, Professor White?"

"Do you think you can answer the question now, Richard?"

Dick gazed at the blackboard and found a series of chemical elements and compounds with varying charges staring back at him.

Dick mentally cursed. Normally, this would be no problem for him. But since he hadn't really been paying attention, he had no idea what the teacher wanted him to say.

And boy, did he know it.

"Well, Richard?" Professor White said in a slow, calculating tone that made Dick want to hit him over the head with his science book. "Can you answer the question or can't you?"

Dick bit back the sarcastic retort in his throat, shook his head reluctantly, and said shortly, "No, sir."

"Well, then, perhaps someone who has been paying attention can. Yes, Kristin?"

And Kristin proceeded to give him the oxidation numbers for all of the examples on the board.

Dick rolled his eyes. He knew how to do this stuff; it was easy. Of course, now the entire class thought he was an idiot just because he'd spaced out for a moment…

The day didn't get any better, either. As soon as he got home and tried to change out of his school uniform, he quickly discovered that he had outgrown several shirts—not by much, but enough so that he certainly would never be able to wear them again.

No big deal. He had plenty of clothes. But Alfred would probably want to know, so Dick went down to tell him.

He found the elderly butler dusting the study. Unfortunately, Bruce was reading in there as he told Alfred the news.

"Already?" was Bruce's first response.

"Well don't sound so enthusiastic," Dick grumbled. "Personally, I think it's about time I started looking more like a thirteen-year-old." Under his breath, he added darkly, "Even if I don't sound like one…"

Bruce heard that last bit of commentary, but ignored it.

"Getting taller is fine, as long as you gain enough weight to go with it. And the last time I checked, you hadn't gained an ounce. That isn't healthy."

"Oh, Master Bruce, really," Alfred admonished. "The boy will gain weight when his body is ready."

"_Thank_ you, Alfred," agreed Dick.

"I still don't like it," Bruce insisted. "During growth spurts, you need more nutrition than you do normally, and you eat like a bird, Dick, you really do."

"'Like a bird'? You mean like a _robin_, don't you? How appropriate!"

Bruce sighed, and Dick refrained from rolling his eyes. He knew that his guardian was just worried about him—which was definitely nice to know—but he'd had a pretty lousy day and was in no mood to be picked on.

"Okay, Bruce, fine. If it'll make you feel better, I'll eat a little more, okay?"

"You will do no such thing," Alfred said in as sharp a tone as he ever used. "You are perfectly fine the way you are, and don't let anyone tell you any different. And I _mean anyone._"

Dick nodded and left the room.

But the seeds of doubt had already been planted. _Was _he too thin? He had heard that kids usually gained weight _before _growth spurts so that they'd still be a healthy weight when they shot up four or five inches.

Dick headed into the bathroom and pulled the scale out from under the sink. Then he kicked off his shoes and weighed himself.

At five-foot-one, he weighed one hundred and twenty pounds. Actually, according to BMI, he was at risk of becoming overweight. But that thing didn't account for muscle mass, so Dick didn't really worry about it too much.

Alright then.

So Bruce wanted him to gain a little weight.

So he'd gain weight.

No problem.

---

"Master Bruce, really. Telling the boy to eat more? That can be just as unhealthy for him as eating too little."

"I was just telling him the truth, Alfred. And we _both_ know what a picky eater Dick can be, which makes it that much harder for him to gain weight."

"If I may say so, sir, Master Dick is more an overly-healthy eater than a picky one. And might I also remind you who is_ responsible_ for his unusual diet?"

"You. You're the one who won't let him have however many sweets in a day."

"_And?_"

"…If he's going to be Robin, he has to stay in shape. That means plenty of exercise and a healthy diet."

"Perhaps so, Master Bruce, but if you keep pushing the young sir in this manner, he is likely to end up with an eating disorder."

"Don't be ridiculous, Alfred. Dick is much too sensible for that."

* * *

**This is just to set the stage a little. Give you a sneak peek into Dick's life. It gets better, I swear! Oh, and I don't really know how much Dick weighs at that age, I just used the Body Mass Index to find a sensible weight. I don't know how tall he was, either. But gymnasts are short, and five-one is short, and he's still got growing to do, so whatever. **

**Please review, but be nice. It's almost the holidays already. I'm being nice by posting, so you be nice in your reviews, or else Santy Claus is gonna put coal in your stocking. ;-)**


	2. Perfect

**Okay, before I go any farther, I really need to say something. I just want to send a great big thank you out to my fellow (and very talented) fan-fic author myrina. She was kind enough to share her experiences with eating disorders with me, which really helped me to write this story. Your help was much appreciated, myrina! Thank you :) So everybody go thank her by reading and reviewing all of her terrific Batman stories! (pause) Well, what are you still doing here?! I said to go read her stuff!**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter One: Perfect

_Five months later…_

"Hey, what's up with Robin? He's been acting really weird lately," were Speedy's first words as he entered the Titans' Tower that chilly February morning. "On the way in, I mentioned he lost weight and he told me to zip it."

"Telling you to zip it is weird?" Kid Flash shot back.

"Very funny," Speedy said with a glare.

"He has a point, though," Aqualad put in. "Robin just has not been himself lately. He told me to meet him at the Mexican border to do something about Dr. Light but he never arrived. I had to take care of it by myself."

Kid Flash couldn't help but express surprise at this. Robin was always so responsible; he took his job as leader of the Titans very seriously—sometimes a little _too _seriously for Wally's tastes. He'd never tell someone he'd be somewhere and then not show up!

"Did he have an excuse?" Kid Flash inquired.

"He said he was preoccupied in Gotham."

"That's it?!"

Aqualad nodded.

"Okay, now _that's_ weird," Speedy had to agree.

"Maybe he is ill," suggested Aqualad. "That would explain the weight loss, at any rate…"

"I don't think Batman would let him out of the house if he was sick," said Kid Flash, sounding dubious. "And even if Batman let him out, Alfred certainly wouldn't."

The Teen Titans exchanged smirks. It was no secret that Alfred was by far the strictest parental figure any of them had ever met. They had visited Wayne Manor quite frequently and knew about Alfred's strictness from personal experience, as well as Robin's amusing anecdotes.

"He's probably just in one of his moods, then," decided Kid Flash. "Maybe he and Batman had another fight or something. That always gets Robby upset, and when he's upset… it's not the anniversary of his parents' deaths, is it?"

"Nah, that was months ago," Speedy informed him. "So you're probably right. Although why Robin is so attached to that guy is beyond me. He's too busy with all those crooks to notice if he's still _breathing_ half the time…"

Aqualad, sensing a potential problem brewing, promptly changed the subject.

They eventually got around to discussing homework problems. Since Robin never seemed to have any trouble in school, it was a subject they tended to keep away from whenever he was around to avoid any bragging from him.

"I flunked my last health and nutrition exam," Kid Flash remarked. "Uncle Barry says he's gonna ban me from the Titans unless I get my grades back up, _pronto_."

"Ouch. How'd ya plan on pulling that off, Twinkletoes?" Speedy wondered.

"My teacher offered everyone the chance to do an extra-credit report on eating disorders if they needed the points." Kid Flash rolled his eyes dramatically, showing just how disgusted he was with the whole idea. "And boy, do I need them."

"Good luck," Aqualad said sincerely.

---

Wally sighed, bored, as he scrolled through the various articles on the internet. He had been sitting at the computer in the library for only ten minutes and he was already bored half out of his mind.

_If only I hadn't flunked that test!_ he lamented.

Sighing a little, Wally clicked on a link and started reading again. So far, the only thing he had discovered was that teenage girls weren't the only people to suffer from the disorders, contrary to popular belief. And considering the report had to be at least five pages long, that wasn't a lot to go on.

He jotted down a couple of notes and kept on searching.

---

About a week later, the Titans were back at their headquarters, ready to investigate a series of murders that had been plaguing Gotham City for the past several weeks.

Batman had insisted that the Titans needn't get involved.

But Robin had decided otherwise.

"Are you sure? We could get into trouble for disobeying Batman, especially since it concerns his city," Wonder Girl had questioned hesitantly.

"Hey, it's my city too, remember?" Robin had shot back, sounding irritated. "Batman isn't the only one who lives in Gotham, you know. I just think we should do what we can, if that's alright with you."

Wonder Girl looked slightly hurt by Robin's gruffness and turned to see if the others were as surprised as she was.

They were.

Finally, Aqualad just asked:

"Robin, is there something wrong?"

"_No._"

"Oh, that's convincing," Speedy muttered under his breath. Robin shot him a rotten look but said nothing.

"C'mon, Robin, you know you can tell us," insisted Kid Flash.

"It's nothing, okay? Now will you drop it?"

"So there _is _something wrong, then?"

This time, it was Kid Flash who was at the receiving end of a dirty glare.

"Look, will you forget it already? Batman just yelled at me again last night. It's no big deal."

A couple of the Titans rolled their eyes at this. No, it wasn't really a big deal. It happened so often these days that it was pretty much old news to them.

No big deal.

Except to Robin.

He hadn't even bothered to tell the rest of the Titans why Batman was so angry with him lately. It must be something pretty bad, as Robin generally did his best to impress his mentor. In fact, he put a lot more effort into impressing his senior partner than the other Titans did with theirs. Why? _That_ was still a mystery.

"Okay, look," Robin announced, "I think I've already figured out a pattern to these killings, so listen up…"

---

"_Suicide,_ that's what it was! Walking into that place was just plain _suicide!_"

Wonder Girl sighed and slouched a little lower into her seat as Speedy continued to rant. Their investigation had been far from pleasant. Robin had been right about the murderer's next victim, and he'd also picked out the location with surprising exactitude, even by his lofty standards.

But that was just the problem. It had all been too simple to figure out.

"Are you sure about this?" Kid Flash had said, visibly bracing himself for an angry reaction from Robin. "This just seems a little too easy…"

Robin closed his eyes as if trying to control his temper. Then he opened them and said in a low and steady voice, "If we were discussing the Joker, I'd say you have a point. But this is just some two-bit killer who's gotten lucky in evading the law. Now we're going to put an _end_ to his lucky streak."

The cold look on Robin's face as he said this was enough to put an end to any other questions the Titans may have had.

And so, after Wonder Girl had removed the bars from the window, the Titans swung (or flew) into the warehouse. Wonder Girl replaced the bars, closed the window, and hid behind a couple of old crates with Aqualad. Robin was behind one of the chairs while Kid Flash and Speedy were hiding in the next room.

What they didn't know was that the killer was hiding in that room, too.

And he had brought friends along.

It had almost cost them their lives.

They had managed to capture the gang and make it look like they had fought amongst themselves, thus knocking each other out (just so Batman wouldn't know they had been there). Then the Titans made their exit, none the worse for wear but very upset. Robin, meanwhile, hadn't said a word since leaving the warehouse.

"Why didn't you _tell_ us this guy was part of a gang?!" Speedy demanded, storming over to the Titans' leader.

"Well, did it ever occur to you that I just didn't _know?_" he shot back. "I'm not perfect, you know!"

It wasn't often that Robin lost his temper with the Titans.

"Why am I always the one doing all the research anyway? Just so you can _blame_ me when things go wrong?"

"You're the _leader!_ You're _supposed_ to take responsibility!" yelled Speedy. "_You're_ the one who said that!"

"Well maybe _you_ guys oughtta start taking some responsibility! You can't depend on me forever!"

Speedy actually looked like he was going to take a swing at Robin before Aqualad stepped in, placing himself between the two boys.

"I think we have done enough fighting for today," he said softly.

Finally, Robin admitted, "You can't expect me to be perfect all the time, Speedy. I get enough of that from Batman. However, I will admit that my research this time was… hasty. I'll do better next time. The meeting's over."

Robin got up from his chair and headed out the door.

"Robin…" Wonder Girl called.

"I said the meeting's over."

---

As soon as Robin returned to the Cave that evening, he knew he was in trouble.

It was clear that Batman had been awaiting the return of his teenage partner. The Caped Crusader never looked particular cheerful, but Robin never feared him because he knew that this anger was generally directed at Gotham's criminals.

This time, however, the Boy Wonder realized that Batman was mad at _him._

"You disobeyed me, didn't you, Robin?" were the first words out of his mouth.

Robin removed his mask and instantly transformed back into Dick Grayson, youthful ward to Batman's Bruce Wayne. He didn't even bother to feign ignorance to his mentor's accusation.

"We got them, didn't we?"

"'We', is it? So you got the Titans involved, too?"

The boy could have kicked himself as soon as the words left his mouth. Stupid, stupid, stupid… now it wasn't just Robin in trouble, but the Teen Titans as well! _Stupid!_

"I thought I told you not to get involved," Batman said dangerously.

"You also told me that we were partners," countered Dick in a small voice. "If you had meant it, we would have been working on this case together anyway, and I wouldn't have had to go against your orders."

"Robin, you know why I didn't allow you to get involved in this case," the older one replied. He was beginning to get a little annoyed with the kid's whole attitude. "I wanted you home so that you could study and get your grades back up to an acceptable level."

"I've been getting A-minuses all month—"

"—in subjects that you used to get A-pluses in with no trouble."

Dick let out his breath and looked away.

"So you expect me to be perfect, too?" he whispered.

"I _expect_ you to keep your grades up. If this trend continues, you'll be failing by the end of the year."

The boy jumped visibly. He hadn't known that he'd spoken loudly enough for Batman to hear, although he probably should have by this point. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Man and boy stared at each other for a long while, blue eyes boring into blue eyes. Dick was the first to look away, no longer able to bear the shame he imagined he saw in his mentor's face.

"Dinner's in ten minutes," Batman said. "Be sure to wash up first."

And then he exited the Cave, leaving Dick alone with his self-destructive thoughts.

---

Dick reluctantly came to the dining room for the evening meal. Alfred had prepared a scrumptious-looking pasta dish, and just the smell of it was enough to make Dick's mouth water and his stomach growl.

Yet he touched none of it.

"Aren't you hungry, Master Dick?" the butler asked, concern evident in his tone.

"No."

"He's upset because I wouldn't let him get involved in the murder case until his grades improved," Bruce answered dismissively. Then, to Dick, he added, "You'd better eat something or you won't be able to concentrate on your homework."

"And that, of course, is the most important thing, isn't it? _Nothing_ else matters except my_ grades_, right?" Dick shot back irritably. "I said I wasn't hungry, Bruce. May I be excused?"

"No."

"Of course you may, Master Dick," Alfred interjected. The boy had leapt from his chair and was out of the room before Alfred could even remove his plate.

As he took Dick's untouched meal out of the room, Alfred noticed that Bruce was glaring at him.

"As you have probably noticed, sir, Master Dick has recently adopted the rather unhealthy habit of not eating when he is distressed. It does no good to push him. He will eat when he is hungry and not before then," the elderly man explained. Bruce could tell that the butler was speaking from experience.

_Hey, he's **your** kid. You should have known that, _Bruce thought ruefully.

---

Dick hastily left the dining room, relieved and even a little pleased with himself. He'd managed to disobey two orders from the almighty Batman in just one day—first was the order to stay out of the murder case, and second was the command to eat dinner. Finally, freedom!

The boy quickly changed clothes and headed into the gym to practice a few new moves on the horizontal bar. He may be young and small for his age, but nobody would deny that Dick Grayson was, by far, one of the greatest acrobats on earth.

_But you won't stay that way for long without practice,_ Dick mused.

So he got to work.

* * *

**Sorry for the delay. Stupid site wouldn't let me upload, and apparently I'm not the only one. I think someone in _Batman: The Animated Series_ mentioned they had trouble uploading.**

**Anyway, I also noticed that this chapter seemed a wee bit rushed. Maybe it's just me. It'll get better later, I promise!**


	3. Another Secret

**I didn't put a disclaimer in the last chapter. But do you really need one for _every_ chapter of _every _story I write? No? Good! The first chapter's disclaimer applies to the whole story, which, if you will be good enough to read, starts about... now!**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Two: Another Secret

Things seemed to return to normal around the Titans' Tower after that. Robin's attitude had pretty much disappeared, and he began to gain back the weight he had lost.

One night, about two weeks later, Wally sat at the table in the conference room of the JLA Watchtower. Flash was off dealing with some important case in Metropolis with most of the rest of the League and had somewhat unceremoniously dumped his sidekick off at the Watchtower for the night. So Wally, still in his Kid Flash costume, had decided to take the unforeseen free time to finish up that stupid report for health class.

That was when Dick, still in his Robin costume, had unexpectedly come in and casually asked his longtime friend what he was writing.

"A report," said Kid Flash.

"Gee, really," Robin replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I never would have guessed." Pause. "What about?"

Kid Flash told him. Even though the mask covered that part of his face, he could tell that Robin's eyebrows had risen considerably.

"Anorexia?" he repeated, sounding more surprised than he looked. Then, with a snicker, he added, "Sounds more like a small country than a disease."

"It's short for _anorexia nervosa._"

"I _knew_ that, genius."

"Hey, what are you doing here, anyway?"

"Same thing you are. Batman went off on some JLA case concerning Lex Luthor, didn't have time to drop me at home and didn't want me staying there alone anyway, so he let me off here. I told you Alfred was on vacation, remember?"

"Yeah… I still can't believe you talked him into it."

"_I_ can't believe I'm still alive after that_ stuff_ Bruce made for dinner," said Robin, making a face. Kid Flash laughed, and then he told Robin what he had learned yesterday—that up to twenty percent of people with eating disorders eventually died from the disorder and/or complications, such as organ failures or heart problems. There were also more than just a few reports of suicide.

Robin shivered involuntarily.

"And I thought the 24-hour virus was bad."

Kid Flash let out a sort of chuckle before returning to his books. He wasn't the most studious of fourteen-year-olds, but—like he had told the Titans—Flash had promised to ban him from crime-fighting unless his grades in health & nutrition saw some serious improvements.

"Hey, I'm going down to the cafeteria to get a snack," Robin interrupted his thoughts. "I'm assuming you want me to bring you something?"

"Forget it, I'll come with you," replied Kid Flash. He started gathering up his supplies, and Robin helped.

It was there that Kid Flash asked his friend if he had put on any more weight.

"If I did, it's all muscle," Robin joked with a grin.

"No, seriously, I think you have. You don't look as stick-like as you did last time I saw you."

Just to pester Robin, Kid Flash jabbed a finger none-too-gently into his stomach.

"Hey!" Robin protested, wincing. Then, after a second, his face took on a pensive expression. "Hey, you know something? Bruce said the same thing this morning. About my gaining more weight."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," the junior speedster went on, shrugging. "Most kids gain some weight before a major growth spurt. Who knows? In a month or so, you might even catch up to me!"

"I don't want to do that! I'm a gymnast! I have to be short!" Robin insisted.

"Then I suggest spending a little more time in the gym and a little less time in the cafeteria, pal," said Kid Flash with a grin.

"Yeah…" Robin said, still looking thoughtful.

"Well, c'mon. I think I hear a hamburger calling me."

Robin paused for only a moment before following Kid Flash out the door.

---

As soon as he got back to his room the next morning, Dick spent hours just staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He'd stepped on the scale earlier to check his weight—well, he was back at the old one-twenty number again.

Five months of dieting was now officially down the tubes.

Wonderful.

And everybody had noticed! Well, okay, Bruce and Kid Flash was hardly _everybody_, but if Kid Flash could spot the difference, then anybody could.

Dick cocked his head as his reflection. He hadn't really thought he'd gained so much weight, but now that he looked closer… was he really that fat? He didn't recall one-twenty being quite _that_ big, especially since he'd grown a couple of inches taller since the last time he had weighed that much.

So why did he look so _big?_

He shuddered and turned away, crossing his arms over his chest, unsure of what to do next. But one thing was for sure.

He had to do _something._

But what?

He didn't have to wait long for an answer.

It started at dinner that night. Dick was carefully picking his way around the steak and anything else that wasn't safe, instead choosing to cut each of the vegetables in half before putting them into his mouth, chewing, and swallowing. He knew that Bruce was keeping a close eye on him that evening, so he cut the steak up into small pieces and moved them about the plate, hoping to make it look like he'd eaten some of it.

No-one was fooled.

"I'm done," he eventually announced, putting his fork down and pushing the plate away.

"Not again…" Bruce muttered.

"Not again _what?" _Dick inquired innocently. He honestly had no idea what his mentor was talking about.

"You. Not eating. You were just starting to eat normally again, and now look. You've hardly touched your dinner."

"Why is everyone so picky about what I eat lately? I eat when I'm hungry, and right now I'm _not_, so why can't everybody just leave me alone already?"

Ignoring his ward's outburst, Bruce quickly went on, "Did you eat lunch today at school, or did you just throw it out?"

"I ate lunch!"

_Well, parts of it, anyway._

"And how about breakfast?" Bruce continued. "You skipped out of here before six this morning and rode to school on your bike. And it's not like we live two blocks from the school, it's a good fourteen miles into Gotham, and as far as Alfred can tell, you didn't take anything to eat with you."

"What's wrong with a little extra exercise?"

"Nothing, as long as you _eat_."

"Back to the eating again…"

"Dick, what's the matter with you? You know better than this. You could really hurt yourself this way."

"Bruce, look, it's _my_ life, and _my_ body, so if I—"

"—if you want to kill yourself, I should let you?"

Dick stared at him, stunned. _Killing_ himself? He wasn't _killing_ himself. He was just trying to lose the extra weight he'd put on. The only way to do that was with diet and exercise, which he was doing… so what was everyone's _problem?_

When Dick didn't answer, Bruce finished his own meal and stood up. Dick moved to follow him, but Bruce held up a hand to prevent him from leaving the table.

"You're not leaving until you've finished what's on your plate."

"What?!"

"That's final. Something's telling me you haven't eaten anything today except what you just ate in front of me, so…"

"You don't believe me, do you?" Dick asked incredulously. "I _told_ you I ate lunch, and you don't believe me! I can't believe this! I've lived here since I was eight years old, and you _still_ don't trust me! Only you could pull something this low!"

Bruce didn't allow the hurt to show through.

"Maybe so, but you're still eating all of it."

_Does he really think I'm that cruel? I only want him to eat. I only want him to be healthy… am I really that bad?_

"This isn't fair!"

"I never said it was fair. I just said to do it."

"But—!"

Bruce was gone before Dick could finish the sentence.

Dick stared at his food in anger, and then in fear. Bruce was probably right behind the kitchen door to listen for what Dick was doing. He'd know instantly if Dick tried to dump his food in the trash can.

_Oh, God, I'm stuck…_

And so, with a shaky sigh, he pierced a piece of steak with his fork and raised it to his lips…

---

Get rid of it… get rid of it… get _rid_ of it… get _RID _of it…

It was like a broken record. The Voices kept chanting those words, over and over again, refusing to leave him alone no matter how much he begged. In fact, begging just got him more insults about how weak and pathetic he was.

What are you waiting for? Get rid of it… can't you feel it? You're getting bigger by the second… get _rid_ of it… get rid of it right now…

_How?_

How do you think, Grayson?

_Oh… oh, come on, how am I supposed to make myself throw up? I hate throwing up…_

Get _RID_ of it already…

Dick was surprised to find himself sweating, throwing frantic glances at the bathroom door. He knew he shouldn't do this. He knew it was dangerous, and he knew he'd hate doing it.

It won't be so bad… you _deserve _this pain… you deserve this as punishment for eating dinner tonight…

_You're right. I **do** deserve this…_

That's what I've been telling you… it's about time you got it through that thick skull of yours… get rid of it, quickly…

Trembling, Dick stood. He started slowly at first, but eventually quickened his pace to a run. Those nagging Voices were right. He needed to get rid of the food… he needed to punish himself in this way… he didn't deserve to eat; he needed to get rid of it. God, why had he eaten dinner? Why couldn't he have just told Bruce to shut up?

Quit living in the past and get rid of it, Grayson…

And he did.

Now he had his 'something', a way to stop himself from getting any uglier than he already was. Oh, he'd still avoid food whenever possible. But with this new weapon, if Bruce forced him to eat again… well, he'd sure show him. This would teach Bruce to try to boss him around so much.

Dick started towards his bedroom door, intending to tell Bruce all about what he'd just done. To gloat and to prove to everyone—especially himself—that he'd just outsmarted the World's Greatest Detective.

But then he stopped. If he told Bruce… what would he do? Bruce would just sit him down and make him eat dinner again, probably. Or give him a good scolding, at the very least.

Dick sank to the floor with a depressed sigh.

Looked like he had yet another secret to keep.

---

Meanwhile, as Dick was having his own conversation, Alfred was downstairs talking with Bruce. By this point, the butler had been informed of the incident at dinner, and to say that he disagreed with his employer's methods would be an understatement.

"If I may say so, sir, I do not believe that force-feeding Master Dick is the way to fix this particular problem."

"And just what would you suggest?" Bruce responded, feeling his temper rise. "I've tried talking to him. He only gets angry, then _I _get angry and we end up yelling at each other. If this is the only way to get through to that boy, then this is what I'm going to do."

"As you say, sir," Alfred sighed.

---

The next time Wally saw Dick was when Dick and Donna were invited to spend the weekend with him at Uncle Barry's place (no, Donna wasn't sharing a room with the guys, though Wally wouldn't have minded if she had). The only reason Barry had agreed to it, actually, was because he knew that Dick and his legal guardian had had a bit of an argument recently. He figured that getting away from home for a couple of days would help cool Dick's temper so he could smooth things over with Bruce.

"I aced that report on eating disorders, by the way," Wally commented during a lull in the conversation.

"What report?" Donna asked.

Before Wally could explain, Dick jumped in with a complete summary of the situation, and even threw in a couple of facts about anorexia that Wally had missed during his research.

To say the other kids were surprised would be an understatement.

"What?" Dick said upon seeing the stunned looks he was getting.

"Nothing," Wally told him with a shrug. "It's just that the last time we discussed eating disorders, you sounded like you had practically no idea what you were talking about. And now all of a sudden you're an expert."

"So you got me interested enough to do a little research. So what?" said Dick in an uncharacteristically defensive tone.

"Whoa, wait a second!" Donna jumped in, looking a bit confused. "Nobody said there was anything wrong with doing research. No need to get all upset about it."

Dick instantly apologized, looking remorseful enough to prompt Wally to ask what was wrong.

_As if I didn't know,_ he added silently.

"I had a fight with Bruce the other day," Dick explained, confirming Wally's suspicions. "We were going after the Penguin when I did something stupid and practically got incapacitated by one of those umbrellas. Bruce wasn't exactly thrilled about having to save my hide for the twenty thousandth time. I didn't _mean_ to jump into things without thinking. I just wanted to show him I was a crime fighter, not a brainless hostage. So much for that idea."

Dick sighed, and Wally and Donna exchanged glances. It wasn't like Dick to brood over something like this. But they put it down to his being upset over the argument with his legal guardian, although why Dick was so loyal to the guy was beyond Wally's comprehension. Most of the time, Batman didn't seem to notice that Robin was even alive.

"Don't worry about it, Dick," Donna advised, draping an arm over his shoulders. "This isn't the first time you've had a fight with anybody. It'll be over soon."

"How do _you_ know?"

"Because you're too gosh-darn likable to stay mad at for long!" Wally joined in. He mussed Dick's hair and added, "Believe me, I've tried. Remember that time you dropped a balloon filled with Coke on me and ruined my new shirt? I wanted to strangle you!"

"Hey, that was just revenge for when you snuck into my drawer and mismatched all my socks," Dick countered, his usual grin returning.

"I only did it to get you for tattling on me when I slipped the worms down Donna's back!"

"I _remember_ that," Donna put in, sounding miffed but looking fairly amused.

"Well what about when YOU blamed ME for the little cheese incident last summer?! Remember THAT?" Dick pressed, pointing straight at Wally.

"Oh yeah? Well…!"

Donna just rolled her eyes as the two boys continued to argue in this way, going back years to dig up excuses for whatever nasty joke one had played on the other. At least Dick seemed to out of his bad mood.

For the moment. By bedtime, the ex-trapeze artist seemed to have returned to his depression, as he was just staring out the window forlornly and not following the conversation at all. Wally couldn't help but feel a little worried over the unusual behavior. So, while Donna was off doing whatever she did before bed, Wally asked Dick if the incident with the Penguin and his tiff with Bruce was all that was bugging him.

"Well, no," Dick admitted reluctantly. "We argued about something else, too."

When Dick didn't continue, Wally said, "Wanna talk about it?"

"It's nothing," Dick replied with a shrug. "He just thinks I haven't been spending enough time with my chemistry books, that's all."

"Chemistry books? But your grades are so _good!_" Wally observed incredulously.

"Yeah, well, you know Bruce. He says I oughtta study more and that I've been spending too much time in the gym lately."

Wally's mind instantly turned back to their conversation in the Watchtower, back when he'd been kidding Dick about his weight.

"Hey, man, about that stuff I said to you… about not spending so much time in the cafeteria… I was just joking, you know? I didn't actually _mean_—"

"I know you didn't."

Dick gave him a half-hearted smile.

"Don't worry. It's just something I have to work out for myself. I'll be fine."

Donna had returned by this point and was giving them puzzled looks. That was when Dick chose to get up and go change into his pajamas, leaving Wally to fill Donna in on the situation if he so chose.

He didn't.

* * *

**One final comment on Dick's height before I shut up. I read somewhere that, when he grew up (which I totally object to), he was about 5'10". If this is true, I'm sorry, but that makes no sense. The average male in this country is 5'9", an inch shorter than Dick supposedly was (or is...). As a gymnast, isn't he supposed to be short, as in _under_ 5'9"?! Last I checked, 5'10" isn't short. And the producers of the sixties series were worried about Burt Ward being too tall at around 5'8"... HA!**

**If anyone out there has a good explanation for this, I'd be happy to hear it. Or else I'll just assume that DC Comics doesn't know what they're doing.**


	4. Showing Off

**Sorry for the delay. Blame it on the website. I'm back now, though! BWAHAHAHAHA!!**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Three: Showing Off

Dick didn't speak of Bruce or even crime-fighting for the remainder of his stay in Central City, which was a rarity for him. But the weekend ended too quickly for the teens, and they soon began their first week at school for the month of March.

_A new month,_ Wally thought as he headed to his first class that day. _Maybe that means Robby can start over with his attitude and things can get back to normal… where Speedy and I are the only ones doing any yelling!_

He didn't see Dick until the next weekend, when Robin alerted the Titans that the Joker was out causing trouble again. And when Kid Flash arrived at the Tower (way ahead of everyone else, of course), he saw that his wish had not come true.

Robin, to be blunt, looked horrible. For the first time, Kid Flash saw him in the complete 'Boy Wonder' ensemble minus the mask, which was ironic, considering that Robin was always the one telling them to be extra-careful about keeping their secret identities _secret_.

But Dick's bare face allowed Kid Flash to see that he was very pale and that he had dark circles under his eyes, indicating that he hadn't slept much for a few days.

And he seemed to have lost weight, too…

"You okay, Rob?" the speedster asked tentatively.

Robin jumped visibly. Apparently, he'd been too busy staring at the computer screen to notice that he was no longer alone. Another unusual occurrence.

"'Bout time you got here," was his only response.

Kid Flash sighed a little.

_Here we go again…_

Wonder Girl was the next to arrive, then Speedy.

"Aqualad says he can't come," the junior archer announced. But before he could explain why the Atlantean was absent, Robin exploded.

"What do you _mean_, he's not coming?!" he shouted. "I specifically told him that this was an emergency situation—he _knows _how dangerous the Joker can be, and he _knows_ that he won't be allowed to continue being a Titan unless he can balance his duties here _and _in Atlantis without shirking one or the other!"

"Geez, Robin, get a _grip_, will ya?" Speedy interrupted. "It's not like we _need_ Gillhead for this. We can handle it by ourselves."

"Don't you tell me to 'get a grip'!" Robin barked. "And whether or not we _need_ Aqualad here is entirely beside the point! The point is that he _is_ here in _case _we _do_ need him! You should know that by now—all of you!"

The Titans watched in stunned silence as Robin picked his mask off the table and slipped it over his head, muttering something like, "I'll talk to him about it next time I see him.

"Wonder Girl, call up Cyborg and tell him to get over here as fast as he can. We'll need at least five of us to take down the Joker. Now let's get on with this."

---

"Get him _out _of here! Hurry!" ordered Wonder Girl. Kid Flash was quick to obey the command. Picking Robin's limp body out of the rubble, he slung the Boy Wonder over his shoulders and was back at the Tower administering medical treatment faster than you could blink.

Why had Robin _done_ that, he wondered? Just rushing into things like that was Speedy's style, not Robin's. Robin was always making sure everyone remembered that they were part of a team and should operate as such. Back there, Robin had just acted like… like he was trying to show off to somebody.

Wonder Girl, maybe? No, Robin had never shown any interest in the pretty Amazon. Besides, even if he had, he wouldn't be stupid enough to try to ignore his teammates and go solo.

But he _had_ been stupid, and even Kid Flash knew it. Joker had told them that he had planted a bomb in that office building. But as soon as Robin heard that there were still people inside finishing up the day's work, he had put Speedy in charge of taking the clown into custody so that he could go inside and see what he could do before the bomb went off. Unfortunately, he forgot to check if the explosives were connected to the door.

They were, and they went off as soon as the door slammed shut behind Batman's sidekick. An enormous fireball immediately engulfed the building, setting half the building on fire and reducing the other half to a pile of ruins. Robin had taken a blow to the head that rendered him unconscious, and Wonder Girl had instantly taken charge of the situation, much to Speedy's chagrin. Her first order of business had been to send Kid Flash back to the Tower to tend to Robin's wounds.

So here he was, placing a cold compress against Robin's forehead. The Boy Wonder groaned and tossed his head a little, still only half-conscious. The movement made Kid Flash flinch a little, afraid that he might have hurt his friend, but he then resumed his attempts to stop the blood flow. There wasn't a lot of blood, but it was still a nasty scrape that needed tending.

By the time the speedster had bandaged the wound, Robin's eyes were just beginning to open.

"Twinkletoes?" he called out tentatively.

"Yep, right here. You want something, Rob?"

"…How'd I get here? I thought we were…"

"Yeah, we were," Kid Flash interrupted, "but you needed a little medical attention so I came back to help you. You're okay now."

"And the others?"

"They're still out fighting the Joker."

"Gotta go help them…"

Robin attempted to sit up. Kid Flash knew that he'd never be able to hold Robin back with speed alone, and since Robin was stronger than he was, there was only one thing to do.

"Hey! Wha… Why are you _sitting_ on me?!"

"To make sure you don't try to get up."

Robin sighed in resignation.

"Relax, KF, I'm not going anywhere."

"You sure?"

"_Move it._"

Flash's sidekick swallowed nervously and promptly hopped down onto the floor. He may have superpowers, but even he didn't want to risk getting Robin angry. Then _he'd _be the one needing medical attention.

"Since I really, _really_ don't want you sitting on me again, would you mind getting me something to drink?" Robin asked after a minute or two. "Water's fine."

"Sure," Kid Flash agreed with a bright grin. At least this would make him feel more useful than just sitting around staring at the walls.

Within two seconds, Kid Flash had returned with the requested drink. Of course, he'd spilled about half of it on the way there, but Robin didn't comment. He just thanked him and began to sit up to accept the glass.

"Easy, Robby. Don't want to get dizzy!"

But the warning came too late. Robin had shot up into a sitting position so fast that the walls began to blur before his eyes. He slowly closed his eyes and covered them with his gloved hands, trying to stop his head from spinning.

"Hey… hey, Rob, you okay?" Kid Flash asked nervously.

"Just fine…" Robin muttered, his speech a little slurred.

Unsure of what to do, Kid Flash set the glass down on the examination table and helped Robin to lie back down. He didn't receive any protests for doing this, indicating just how rotten the Boy Wonder was feeling at the moment.

"…H-Hey, Fleetfeet?"

"Yeah, Rob?"

"How do you feel about throwing a birthday party tomorrow night?"

Kid Flash blinked, thoroughly confused.

"A birthday party?" he repeated. "For who?"

Robin split his fingers apart and gazed up at Kid Flash through the fingers. The dizziness was almost gone by now, so he could comfortably look at his teammate.

"For Garth. Tomorrow's his birthday, you know… you forgot, didn't you?"

Uh, well, yes. He had, actually. Gillhead was so shy and modest that he rarely talked about himself. How Robin had managed to get a birth date out of him was beyond Kid Flash's comprehension.

"I thought as much," Robin said with the smallest of smiles gracing his lips. "So should we have a party or not?"

"I thought you were mad at him for not showing up today."

"Sure, but that doesn't mean I _hate_ him."

"Well, okay, why not then?" Kid Flash said. A cheerful grin was rapidly spreading across his face. He liked parties, especially surprise parties. "It'll make a perfect consolation prize after you bite his head off for not showin'."

Robin's eyes narrowed in irritation.

"I wasn't really gonna yell at him," he insisted. "Besides, planning a party sounds a lot more fun than chewing someone out. We can have it tomorrow evening here at the Tower. And if you _dare_ breathe a _word_ of this to Aqualad, you'll be on monitor duty for the rest of your life… could I have that water now, please?"

---

A couple of hours later, the rest of the Titans returned from their mission. The Joker was well on his way back to Arkham Asylum by this point, and no-one in the building had suffered more than minor injuries. Of course, that was mostly because Batman had shown up at the last minute to help out. He hadn't appeared happy to discover that the Titans were interfering in his business; he'd been even less happy when he realized that Robin was not present to scold for the group's meddling.

Batman didn't speak to the Titans as they worked, but just before the police arrived to take care of the Joker, he turned to Wonder Girl with a cold expression and ordered, "Tell Robin to meet me at the Watchtower to discuss this."

Then he was gone.

As soon as the Titans returned to the Tower, their first stop was the infirmary. Robin and Kid Flash had been talking in hushed whispers that ceased as soon as their teammates appeared.

"You guys okay?" Robin queried immediately.

"Yup, everything's cool. You?" said Cyborg.

"I'll live."

"Well now that our good health has been confirmed, I think Robin here has something to tell you," Kid Flash announced. Robin nodded and explained about his plans to throw a little surprise party for Garth. The others seemed to think this was a good idea, although Speedy expressed some doubt that they'd have time to enjoy the party before some villain decided to start causing trouble again.

"That is just a risk we will have to take, I suppose," Wonder Girl told him with a shrug.

Then Robin began to assign tasks to the others. By the end of the meeting, Kid Flash and Wonder Girl were in charge of decorations, Cyborg would round up as many of the other Titans as he could, Speedy would think of a way to keep Aqualad away from the Tower until everything was ready, and Robin would bring the food.

"Yeah, good thinking, Bird Boy," Speedy had agreed as Robin scowled. "Alfred's the best cook we've got…"

"Aunt Iris can cook!" Kid Flash insisted, sounding as offended as Robin looked.

"Yeah, so can I!"

The Titans turned to give Robin an odd look.

"_What? _I can cook," the Boy Wonder reiterated. "Besides, I'd really rather not bother Alfred with extra work if I can help it. Relax, it'll be fine."

"Whatever you say," Speedy said with a shrug. "Incidentally, do we have to bring presents? Because this is kinda short notice and I'm cleaned out at the moment and…"

Robin sighed loudly and agreed to loan Speedy twenty dollars.

"Hey, I said _loan_, not _donate_, Arrow Brains," Robin added upon seeing the mischievous grin that now lit the archer's face. "I expect you to pay me back within the next century. With interest. And don't waste it on something stupid. Make sure it's something that you know Garth will appreciate. And that goes for the rest of you, although I don't think I have to worry about you three as much."

"You can count on us, Robin," Cyborg assured him.

"Okay then, everybody. We'd better get to work right away if we want it all finished by tomorrow. If any of you need help, just give me a call. Now if Dr. West over here approves, I'd better get home and start on the food… what does Garth_ eat_, anyway?"

"Oh, that reminds me!" Wonder Girl cried out suddenly. "Batman said he would be talking to you at the Watchtower. I don't know what he meant by this. Do you?"

"Batman was there?" Robin said, sounding surprised.

"Yes. He arrived as soon as…"

Wonder Girl let her sentence go unfinished as the expression on Robin's face changed from surprise to anger.

"Yes, I think I know what he wants," he said curtly. "I'll go talk to him. The rest of you get to work."

Then he hopped off the examination table and left the room.

After a moment, Speedy observed, "Well _that_ kinda sucked the fun out of everything, didn't it?"

* * *

**Yes, I've decided to include some of the Titans from the cartoon, too. That show is just way too addictive to be healthy... so anyway... expect Beast Boy, Raven, and Starfire in upcoming chapters. More of Cyborg too. Feel free to comment on characterizations or anything else you feel needs fixing! That doesn't mean I'll fix it, of course, but I'm always open to new ideas.**


	5. The Fight and the Lie

**I wasn't really gonna talk about this, but since one of my reviewers brought it up... yes, I changed my name. It used to be 'The Almighty Panamint', but now it's just 'Panamint'. I lost my superpowers (LOL). You can still call me by either name, though. Or just TAP if you don't feel like typing much.**

**Well, you all wanted a fight between Batman and Robin. Now ya got one!**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Four: The Fight and the Lie

Superman raised an eyebrow at the harsh words being exchanged between Batman and Robin. Okay, so he really shouldn't be listening into their conversation, but there was something strange going on with the Gotham heroes. Besides, he couldn't help it if he had super-hearing… or x-ray vision to see through walls and watch the action…

First there was Robin's weight loss. Everyone in the League had mentioned it to him—the Flash, Wonder Woman, even Green Arrow had expressed concern. It wasn't that Robin had lost a _lot _of weight; it was just that the difference was so _noticeable_. Superman had always felt that Batman's sidekick was a bit too thin to begin with, so even the slightest weight difference was a cause for worry.

Second, there was the way Batman had acted around his junior partner when the boy arrived at the Watchtower. Superman and Batman had been in the lab working on an experiment with kryptonite (while Superman stayed a safe distance away, of course) when Robin had entered, looking fairly annoyed. Batman had never been friendly in the first place, but he'd always seemed to ease up a bit with Robin. Not so today. In fact, he'd seemed just as irritated with Robin as Robin was with him.

"I heard you wanted to talk to me. Should we go into the meeting room or something?"

"Does it matter?" Batman had replied, indiscreetly eyeing the Man of Steel. Superman actually felt uncomfortable under the Dark Knight's disapproving gaze, but there was really nothing he could do about his hearing.

However, out of courtesy, he left the lab and headed in the direction of the cafeteria.

_Probably going for a glass of milk, _Batman thought to himself in slight disgust. Sometimes, he really didn't have much use for 'the Big Blue Boy Scout'.

But for now, the Boy Wonder was his only concern.

Robin looked into his partner's eyes and could see the battle lines being drawn. The next few minutes weren't going to be pretty. But if Batman wanted a fight, he'd give him a fight.

And so Superman sat there in the cafeteria, drinking his milk, trying not to look like he was eavesdropping in case one of the other Leaguers decided to drop in and ask.

"What did I tell you about getting your _friends _involved in _my_ business?" were Batman's first words.

Robin held up an index finger.

"Okay, hold on a second here. Since when did it go from being _our_ business to being _your_ business? I don't seem to recall signing over any ownership rights."

"Enough with the sarcasm. I want a straight answer."

"Oh, what a surprise."

"_Robin._"

"Geez, Batman, take a chill pill already," Robin sighed, rolling his eyes. "Believe it or not, Gotham City's my turf, too, and I care just as much about protecting her citizens as you do. So when I heard that the Joker was loose, I figured the Titans and I could handle it. I was just trying to help. It wouldn't kill you to _pretend_ to be grateful, would it? I saved you from going out during the daytime and being separated from your precious shadows."

Maybe it was Superman's imagination, but Robin seemed to have gone from smart-aleck to impertinent in a disturbingly short time. Then again, Batman shouldn't be treating his partner this way. Robin had every right to be angry, and if he had the guts to vent this anger with quips and sarcasm, then good for him. It was more than anybody else would have done.

Unfortunately, Batman didn't seem to agree with Superman's verdict.

"I don't like your attitude, Robin," Batman ground out.

"Another surprise. You gotta quit surprising me like this, Batman, or I'll drop dead from a heart attack any time now."

"I said _enough with the sarcasm_."

"Lay off already! I've had a rough day and—"

All of Robin's wisecracks ended abruptly with one swift move from Batman:

A slap.

Quicker than lightning, the gloved hand lashed out and caught Robin squarely in the jaw. Robin, unprepared for the attack, staggered slightly and fell to the ground, landing hard in a sitting position.

Superman slammed the glass down onto the table in shock. He did _not_ just see that. His eyes were playing tricks on him… he did _not_ just see that.

A stunned silence filled the lab. Robin shook his head slightly, dazed. He'd been slapped by Batman before, but not quite that hard.

Even Batman was surprised by his impulsive action, but Robin never knew this.

Slowly, the Boy Wonder rose to his feet, trying to keep his expression neutral and the stinging tears of pain from slipping down his cheeks. He kept his eyes on Batman the whole time, his blue eyes locked on those of his mentor.

Without a word of warning, Robin made a fist and drove it straight into Batman's stomach. The Dark Knight doubled over slightly, but Robin seemed to be beyond caring.

"So you want to play rough, huh? Well try _this _on for size…!"

Robin took a wild, uncontrolled swing at the man, but this time Batman could see the punch coming and grabbed Robin's wrist, holding it in a vice-like grip. Robin grimaced in pain and wiggled his arm frantically, trying to get free.

Meanwhile, Superman had had quite enough of this and was well on his way down there to stop the fight before someone got seriously hurt.

He broke off visual contact with the scene but kept on listening as he headed back to the lab. He avoided using his super speed so as not to arouse suspicion among the rest of the League. No sense in getting them involved.

"Let me _go!_" Robin's voice rang in his ear.

"Not until you calm down!" Batman barked. "You're too worked up!"

"_I'm_ too worked up? You hit me first! Now let go before I hit you again!"

_I knew their tempers would get them into trouble one of these days. Batman's too overprotective—Robin was bound to rebel eventually, _Superman thought, shaking his head and quickening his pace. _And it sounds like Robin's completely lost control right about now… why did I leave them alone?_

"I'll let go as soon as you calm down," Batman told the boy, "and if you want to hit me again, go right ahead. But rest assured that you won't be seeing the Titans for a good long time if you do."

"What, are you afraid to fight me? Afraid you taught me too well?" Robin goaded.

The next thing he knew, Batman had twisted his arm behind his back, effectively and painfully cutting off the circulation. Superman couldn't see what had been done, but he did hear Robin gasping in pain.

_You hurt that boy and so help me I'll…_

"Quit squirming, Robin, and it won't hurt as much," Batman was saying, his voice still hard but not quite as angry. "Quit squirming and I'll let you go… calm _down_, Robin!"

Superman froze in mid-stride as the talking stopped and three odd noises reached his ears.

First a slight grunt from Robin.

Then the sounds of a scuffle.

And finally, the loud crash of shattering glass.

Forget arousing suspicion. He was using the speed.

---

"What, are you afraid to fight me? Afraid you taught me too well?" Robin goaded.

The next thing he knew, Batman had twisted his arm behind his back, effectively and painfully cutting off the circulation. Robin gasped and instantly began struggling to get free.

"Quit squirming, Robin, and it won't hurt as much. Quit squirming and I'll let you go."

An order. Robin _hated_ getting orders. He'd been receiving and obeying orders from this man ever since he was eight years old, and he was sick of it!

So he continued wriggling.

"Calm _down_, Robin!" Batman yelled, tightening his grip.

That did it!

Twisting his wrist, Robin was able to create just enough room to slip his hand out of his glove and escape Batman's grasp. He whipped around and tried once again to attack his senior partner. But Batman was too quick for him. Grabbing the boy's arm once again, he easily threw him sideways into a nearby table. But because Robin had lost weight since they had practiced throws, Robin was flung much farther and harder than his mentor had intended.

Before either of them had time to react, the Boy Wonder had been hurled over the table, bringing some glass chemistry equipment to the floor with him. Robin cried out as several pieces of glass stabbed at his unprotected limbs, but the yell was drowned out by the shattering sounds surrounding him.

The next instant, Superman appeared in the doorway. As soon as he noticed that Robin was getting the worst of it, the Man of Steel turned to glare at Batman.

"What's the matter with you two today?" he demanded to know. "Fighting never solves anything!"

"Then you sure picked a funny business to get into!" Robin hollered at him. He managed to bring himself to his feet, being careful to avoid the bits of glass surrounding him. Then he grabbed his glove from Batman's hand and stormed out of the room without looking back once.

"Stay out of this, Superman. This doesn't concern you," Batman added.

"It does as long as you're in the Watchtower… and maybe it's a good thing you _were_ here."

The Dark Knight crossed his arms and glowered at the shattered equipment.

"I didn't mean to throw him that hard," he said finally.

"That's not the point—the point is that you _did_ throw him. Robin may be a strong kid but you're still bigger than he is. You could have really hurt that boy!"

"I _know_ that."

"Then why'd you do it? Robin's your partner. I know you'd never hurt him on purpose, but…"

Superman sighed and left his sentence unfinished as Batman strode past him and out of the room, not giving his colleague the opportunity to finish his lecture.

_Most Stubborn Man Alive… that should be his nickname. Forget about the Dark Knight thing…_ Superman mused. _Maybe I'll have better luck with Robin. I'd better not go looking for him in the Batcave, though, with Batman in the mood he's in…_

Superman had always found it best to avoid the Bat when he was in a bad mood (well, a _worse_ mood, anyway). So he decided to pay a visit to Wayne Manor instead and ask for Dick Grayson.

---

Dick opened the refrigerator door with more force than necessary and pulled out a couple of eggs. He tried not to wince as his bruised elbow hit a shelf in the humming metallic appliance.

_Why'd I have to go and fight **Batman**, anyway? I knew I'd lose!_ Dick thought with a scowl. He was so frustrated that he hit the eggs a bit too hard against the edge of the counter, creating a gooey mess that dripped down onto the spotless kitchen floor.

"Oh, terrific…" he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

The boy reached for the paper towels, not noticing the tall bespectacled figure that had just appeared in the doorway. He remained oblivious to the man's presence until Clark called out, "Need any help with that?"

Dick's head jerked up to look at the unexpected visitor. He was clearly surprised, and he said so.

"Geez, what are you trying to do, give me a heart attack? And no _thanks_."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Clark apologized, raising an eyebrow behind the glasses. Dick was in almost as bad a mood as his guardian had been. Maybe he should have waited a little longer before talking with the kid. Well, too late now.

"Did you want something?" Dick asked after a moment, sounding a bit more pleasant.

"Not particularly. I just wanted to talk to you."

Dick gave Clark a searching look.

"Something's telling me I already know what you want to talk about," he said. Turning his gaze back to the mess on the floor, Dick continued, "No offense, Clark, but I'm really not in the mood for discussing that at the moment. Besides, I'm kind of busy right now. Could you, like, maybe come back later?"

"What are you doing, anyway?"

"Right now? Cleaning up the mess I made. In a few minutes I'll be cooking food for Garth's surprise birthday party."

"Oh, really?" Clark commented, his voice betraying his surprise. He'd barely been aware of the fact that the little Atlantean _had_ a birthday, let alone the actual date! "When's his birthday?"

"Tomorrow—the sixth. I figured it would be nice if the Titans threw him a party. I put myself in charge of the food. I was making a cake."

"What kind of cake does Garth like, anyway?"

"I haven't the foggiest."

Clark laughed a little at Dick's open honesty.

"I'm not too worried about it, though," the boy continued. "I mean, I'm working really hard on this stupid cake, and I really hope Garth likes it, but I'm making a bunch of other stuff too. So if he doesn't like the cake he can always eat something else."

"And I'm sure the other Titans wouldn't mind eating the extra cake if it turns out that Garth doesn't like… that's chocolate, isn't it?"

"Yes. I figured I'd better stick with something fairly safe. And besides, there is no way I'll be baking a seaweed cake anytime soon."

"I don't blame you," agreed Clark.

The pair remained together in the kitchen in companionable silence for a time. Clark eventually sat down at the kitchen table and watched in mild surprise as Dick went about his work. Who knew that Wayne's ward was such a talent in the kitchen?

Neither knew how much time passed before everything Dick had made was either in the fridge or the oven. But when Dick finished the cooking, he hopped onto the counter's only clean spot. He sat there staring at Clark for a moment before saying, "Okay, you wanted to talk. I'd hate to think you made the trip out here for nothing, so… let's talk."

"_I _just want to know what's going on between you and Batman," Clark replied, leaning forward a little. "I've never seen you two get so violent with each other before. Is there something you want to talk about?"

Dick just shrugged and muttered, "Not really."

"I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to," Clark continued. He suddenly had the inexplicable feeling that something was very wrong here, and he wanted to nip this thing in the bud if he could. He had to get Dick to trust him with… whatever it was.

"There's nothing to tell," the boy insisted. "Bruce and I had a disagreement over a Joker case and I lost my temper, that's all."

"From what I heard, it sounded more like you were just reacting to _Batman's_ loss of temper," Clark observed. Dick shrugged again and jumped off the counter to check the cake in the oven.

"Alright, well, if you don't want to talk about that, then could you at least give me a reason for your losing weight?"

Dick glanced up, stunned.

"_Losing_ weight?" he repeated. "Last I heard, everybody thought I was _gaining_…"

"Not anymore."

When Dick didn't answer, Clark sighed and went on gently, "Look, I don't mean to pry. But I need to know that you're okay."

"That's nice of you, Clark, but don't go worrying yourself over nothing. Because that's what this is—nothing."

But Clark was clearly skeptical.

"Alright, alright, fine," Dick mumbled. "I've had a bit of a stomach virus lately so I've been throwing up a lot. That's why I've been losing weight, okay?"

"And that's all it is?"

"That's all it is."

"Why didn't you just say so in the first place?"

"Because you worry too much!" Dick accused with a grin.

Clark scrutinized Dick's face a moment longer before allowing himself to relax.

"Alright, maybe I do worry too much," he admitted with a chuckle. "But if you weren't so much trouble then I wouldn't have any reason to worry!"

The words stayed with Dick for the rest of the day, and haunted him as he tried to fall asleep that night after a rather tense patrol with Batman. Both of them had been too stubborn to apologize for that afternoon's activities.

_That afternoon's activities…_

_'What, are you afraid to fight me? Afraid you taught me too well?'_

_'What's the matter with you two today? Fighting never solves anything!'_

_'I've had a bit of a stomach virus lately…'_

_'But if you weren't so much trouble then I wouldn't have any reason to worry!'_

_'…If you weren't so much trouble…'_

_'…**so much trouble**…'_

He _was_ a lot of trouble, wasn't he? He was the reason that Clark worried so much, even though he'd tried to subtly tell the man that he wasn't worth the worry. He was the reason the Titans were in trouble with Batman for the second time.

And he'd lied to Clark, for heaven's sake! He'd never lied to the Man of Steel before. He'd never had any reason to.

So why was he lying now?

Because he couldn't tell Clark. He couldn't tell _anybody_, though deep down, he knew he wanted to. But he just couldn't. Under no circumstances could he ever tell anyone about his true feelings.

It wouldn't be easy; Dick had always been rather talkative and liked sharing things with others. But it had to be done. He had to make this sacrifice.

Nobody could ever know about this.

Not now.

Not ever.

* * *

**That's it until next week! Happy Holidays, everybody!!**


	6. Garth's Party

**I hope you all had a pleasant holiday, and will have a happy new year (and a happy Three Kings Day, for anybody out there besides me who celebrates it). Thank you to everybody who's reviewed so far, and to everybody who will continue to review. Now here it is--the last update of 2006!**

**Please forgive me if characterizations seem off. This is the first time I've written half these characters. (cowers)**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Five: Garth's Party

By the time Robin arrived at the Tower the next evening, the Titans had finished putting up the party decorations that Kid Flash and Wonder Girl had dug up. Now the slightly-disorganized rec room of the Teen Titans was covered from top to bottom in balloons and streamers. Confetti covered the floor and the coffee table, which Kid Flash had put a tablecloth on about .2 seconds earlier.

The table was where Robin planned on putting the food.

None of which he had any intention of eating.

It wasn't that he didn't want to. In fact, Robin would like nothing better than to enjoy the party and eat normally, like anybody else.

…Food? What are you talking about? You can't eat! You've still got so much weight to lose… besides, you lied to one of your best friends… what kind of brat does that?…

_Well it was you who suggested it. Besides, how else could I keep this secret?_

Don't try to blame this on me… you're the horrible one, you liar…

No. Nothing to eat. Not for him.

"This place looks pretty good," Robin commented. "Hey, I've got a whole bunch of food in the Batcave that we need to bring in. Care to give me a hand? No, not you, Twinkletoes, you'll eat all the food before the rest of us have a chance to move. Come on, Starfire."

"I'm coming," she replied cheerfully.

"And once we're finished, I'll call Speedy and Aqualad and tell them the Joker broke out of Arkham."

"He what?! He _escaped?_" Kid Flash exclaimed in shock.

"No, no, no!" Robin yelled back in exasperation. "I'm just going to tell them that to get Aqualad here without suspecting anything!"

"…Right. I knew that…"

Robin rolled his eyes and headed back towards the transporter with Starfire not far behind.

As they headed back to the Batcave, the Tamaranean princess watched Robin very carefully. She wanted to ask him something, but wasn't sure how he would react. It hadn't always been this way, of course. But lately, if you asked the Boy Wonder a question he didn't like, he'd… how did Speedy put it?… bite your head off. That was it. Starfire wasn't sure what cannibalism had to do with anything, but Robin sure had been grumpy lately.

But he seemed alright now. It seemed safe to ask.

"Robin? Do you really think Speedy will be able to keep Aqualad out of the Tower long enough for us to finish surprising the party?"

"He'd better," Robin replied shortly.

---

Speedy stopped his pacing and stared at the water in the river entrance to the Titans' Tower. He thought he'd seen something beneath the gentle waves…

"Hey there, Gillhead! How's it goin'?"

"How is what going?" asked Aqualad, cocking his dark head in confusion. "And _where_ is it going?"

"Never mind," Speedy sighed. "Hey, what are you doing here, anyway?"

"Talking to you, at the moment. But I heard from the Flash that you were all here, and since I had nothing worthwhile to accomplish at home, I thought I might come and talk to you."

"Uh, okay. Sure. Whaddya wanna talk about, Orca Brains?"

Aqualad raised an eyebrow.

"May I enter the Tower first?" he inquired, looking a bit suspicious.

"Why would you want to do that? It's nice down here, by the water… say, Gillhead, I don't suppose you've ever seen a football game, have you?"

"I did once," the Atlantean confessed, "but I did not see the purpose of the sport, nor was it very enjoyable."

"Well, excuse me, Mr. Spock. I was just trying to make a little small talk here."

"You watch _Star Trek_?"

"Uh… not much… tell me about it!"

Aqualad looked very surprised by the abrupt request and was about to ask Speedy if something was wrong when the archer's communicator began to beep.

"Speedy? Robin here. Where are you?"

"In the river entrance with Gillhead. Why?"

"Well don't just _sit_ there! The Joker just broke out of Arkham—we're needed in Gotham right now!"

_Finally! I thought that little shrimp would never give the signal!_

"Okay, Birdboy, okay! Relax, will ya? We're comin'."

Speedy hung up without giving Robin a chance to reply. Then he jerked his head towards the stairs, indicating that Aqualad should follow him up to the Tower. Aqualad understood the message and nodded.

Whenever Aqualad arrived at the Tower after being called in to help with a case, Robin was generally sitting at the computer typing furiously while the others stood around him, watching the screen as their leader explained the situation as best he could. This was exactly the scene Aqualad was expecting as Speedy opened the door to the meeting room.

But that was not the scene that greeted him.

Aqualad gaped at the room. It looked like someone had done a darn good job of sabotaging the place with… balloons? Party streamers? Confetti? And where had all the food come from?

"What…?" he started to ask.

"Happy birthday!" Speedy yelled.

Something suddenly leapt onto Aqualad's back, nearly knocking him to the floor. It took him several moments to realize that it was Kid Flash who had pounced on him, and that all of the other Titans were now there as well, singing 'Happy Birthday' with Speedy (except Raven, although Aqualad considered himself lucky that she had shown up at all as she wasn't especially fond of parties).

Dumbfounded, all the Atlantean could think to say was, "What about the Joker?"

"That was just a trick, buddy!" Kid Flash laughed, mussing his hair. "We wanted to get you here without you suspecting anything, so Robby suggested we tell you the Joker had escaped. We sure had you fooled, didn't we, Gillhead?"

"Don't feel too bad, Aqualad. You weren't the only one Robin fooled," Raven added, looking pointedly at Kid Flash. The Fastest Boy Alive promptly turned red and hopped off Aqualad's back, allowing him to stand up straight.

"You… remembered my birthday? I believe I only mentioned it once, and that was several months ago," Aqualad said, mostly to himself. Then, bowing his head, he admitted softly, "I owe you all an apology. I thought you would all forget my birthday, yet you were thoughtful enough to have a party for me. I'm truly sorry for doubting you. I hope you can forgive me."

"Don't apologize. We _did_ forget," Kid Flash sheepishly confessed. He moved over to put an arm around Robin's shoulders. The Boy Wonder looked up in time to see Kid Flash wink at him in a silent gesture of gratitude. That little gesture was almost enough to make him feel… happy.

"It was Rob here who remembered your birthday," the teenager speedster explained. "He's the one who suggested throwing a little b-day bash for you, too. So if you want to thank anyone, thank him."

"You don't have to thank me," Robin interjected with a shrug. His face started turning a bright pink from embarrassment, and Speedy giggled at this until Wonder Girl nudged him quiet. "Let's just get to the party, shall we?"

"Yay!!" Speedy hollered. The next second, he, Beast Boy and Kid Flash were at the coffee table, trying to decide what to eat first. Wonder Girl laughed lightly and went after them to make sure they didn't eat everything. Robin began to go after them as well when Aqualad shyly caught him by the arm.

"Robin?"

"Yeah?"

Aqualad shrugged a little. It was his turn to look embarrassed.

"Um… thank you. It was very kind of you to do this."

Robin grinned a silly little grin and said, "No problem, Gillhead."

Aqualad generally hated being called 'Gillhead' by Speedy, because he always put demeaning and/or sarcastic undertones into the nickname. But when Robin said it, it sounded the way it was supposed to—like a friend gently teasing a friend. So he smiled at the simple comment and went to join the others.

"Hey, Fish Face!" Speedy hollered over the loud music he had just put on. Aqualad grimaced at the racket but would have patiently suffered through it if Robin hadn't had the good taste to turn it off. "You really need to try some of these cookie things—they're great! Gee, Rob, if you ever want to moonlight at being a chef, call me first, will ya?"

"Robin made the food?" Aqualad concluded with some surprise.

"Hm?" Speedy muttered, slightly disconcerted by the disappearance of his music. "Oh, oh yeah, sure. What did you put in this stuff anyway, Short Pants?"

"Tofu."

"Alright!" Beast Boy whooped in delight, reaching for one of the cookies.

Speedy, meanwhile, was not quite as thrilled. He promptly choked and spit the cookie out into the napkin he'd been holding.

"What did you just say?!"

"I said tofu. And I was kidding."

"Ha, ha. Very funny," Speedy grumped as Kid Flash snickered loudly.

"Maybe that will teach you not to call me Short Pants, Arrow Brains," Robin shot back smoothly.

"That wasn't funny—that was cruel!" Beast Boy objected to nobody in particular.

About twenty minutes passed before Aqualad finally noticed something odd about the party. He was having fun, of course, and everyone else seemed to be having a great time as well. But something about Robin's behavior kept nagging at him…

Wait, that was it. Everyone (himself included) had been making regular pit stops at the coffee table to pick up a snack or a glass of soda in between various activities.

Everyone, that is, except Robin. In fact, he hadn't participated much in the games or anything else, either. He had just been watching the action from the sidelines, making sure things didn't get out of hand.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Robin just wasn't a party person. And it wasn't like Raven was exactly the life of the party either.

Then why did this concern him so much?

Being the dutiful crime fighter he was, Aqualad decided he had to get to the bottom of this curious behavior. Robin had never eaten a lot anyway, but this was a party! And if he had made the food, then he should at least enjoy _some_ of it.

Walking over to the coffee table, Aqualad took a couple of the 'cookie things' and went up to the Boy Wonder, who had been isolating himself in the corner of the couch for about ten minutes now.

"Hello," Aqualad greeted, sitting next to his fellow sidekick.

"Oh. Hey, buddy. You like the party?"

"It's wonderful. I really can't thank you enough for being so considerate."

"Eh, forget it," Robin insisted, waving his hand around nonchalantly. He was starting to blush again, and Aqualad decided to shift the conversation to the treats in his hand.

"Um, here," he managed to say. "Would you like one of these?"

Robin took one look at the cookies in Aqualad's hand and had to use every ounce of his willpower not to let his panic show through.

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry," he said politely.

_Man, was that ever a lie! Yes I'm hungry, I'm **starving** over here! I haven't eaten since who knows when, at least since yesterday, why can't I just have one? Just one bite even, please anything, please! I want to eat so bad… can't any of you see that? Please, just a little, **please**…_

You're not hungry… Trust me. You're not… Just a few more pounds, Grayson… just a few more pounds… don't cave in now! You're so close… just a few more pounds…

"Are you sure?" Aqualad pressed very gently, blissfully ignorant of Robin's desperate thoughts. "You have not eaten anything."

"Maybe there really _is_ tofu in that stuff," Speedy offered with a strained grin, looking up from his rather uncomfortable position on the Twister® mat. "And he doesn't want to poison himself by eating it."

Kid Flash, who had eaten quite a bit by this point, didn't really like the idea that he'd been eating tofu this whole time. So he scowled at the archer and pushed him over onto Starfire, who squealed in surprise. Aqualad giggled, but couldn't help noticing that Robin kept sneaking sideways glances at the cookies he was still holding. Once again, he got the distinct feeling that this was more than just a lack of appetite.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like one?" the Atlantean asked one last time.

Robin sighed. Aqualad bit his lip, slightly worried that Robin was annoyed with him.

But he wasn't. He was just resigning himself to the fact that he wouldn't be able to eat at the party. Or anywhere else until he had lost the extra weight.

"No, really, I don't want anything. Thanks for the offer, though."

Aqualad smiled uncertainly and took a bite out of a cookie. Robin tried frantically not to watch, to concentrate on the action in front of him, but the smell kept wafting towards him. It was driving him crazy.

_Oh, for crying out loud! Why do you have to eat right in front of me?! As if I wasn't hungry enough, now you have to tease me with all that fat and grease and… oh God. Just go somewhere else and stuff yourself, will you? Leave me alone, PLEASE!_

Robin couldn't help but notice that his stomach was growling, begging for food.

Aqualad noticed too.

But he said nothing.

He didn't know that Robin was silently promising himself not to eat _anything_ until he had lost enough weight.

It won't take long… just a little longer… just a few more pounds and everything will be perfect…

"Yo, Rob! Hey, dude! EARTH to ROBIN!"

Robin shook his head to try to clear the Voices out. Not that it would help.

"Sorry, Speedy. Must have spaced out for a minute. Did you want something?"

"No. But GA is making me ask you to help me with my math homework. Can I book an appointment now before I forget and Ollie flogs me within an inch of my life?"

Robin managed a smile.

"Sure thing. I'm kind of busy until the weekend, though, so make it three days from now. Sunday. At seven."

"In the morning?!"

Robin didn't even bother to answer that.

"See you then, Speedy-o," he sighed.

* * *

**Not my most exciting chapter, but we're getting there. I think we could all use a little calm after the last installment anyway :)**

**Does the Tower even HAVE a river entrance? I know the Lair did, but since I'm including Beast Boy and the others, I figured I'd better use the Tower... and I know Beast Boy isn't a vegetarian in all versions of the Titans, but he is in the cartoon, and since that's the only version with him I know about, that's what I'm writing here. Well, okay, my sister got a 60s _Teen Titans_ comic book with Beast Boy for Christmas (YAY!!), but that's just one issue compared with however many episodes of the show I've seen... okay, I'm rambling now. My New Years' Resolution--quit rambling!! XD**


	7. Dieting

**I just noticed that I haven't been doing my reviewer replies at the bottom like I usually do. (smacks forehead) I've been so busy trying to finish this story that I completely forgot! I'm terribly sorry--you've all been so nice to me and I've been... well...**

**Point being, I apologize, and I'll be doing the replies from now on.**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Six: Dieting

Three days later, Dick had managed to fib his way out of eating nine straight meals, and he was just beginning to feel it. About a couple of years ago, Batman had taught him several techniques that would help him deal with extreme hunger (after all, you never knew when you'd be kidnapped or trapped somewhere without food). Right now, Dick was employing every method Batman had ever taught him. Nonetheless, he found that all he could think about was food—it was impossible to concentrate on anything else.

Well… if he couldn't eat food, then maybe he could just smell it a little. Maybe it would make him feel better. Besides, smelling food wasn't fattening.

So that afternoon, after stopping once due to dizzy spells, Dick wandered into the kitchen. He instantly regretted it—the smells didn't make him feel better, they made him feel hungrier than ever! How could he have been this stupid?

But there was no turning back now. Alfred had undoubtedly detected his presence, so he couldn't leave. Not just yet.

Struggling to keep his tone light and happy, he said, "Hi, Alfred. Need any help?"

"Have you finished your homework?"

"Yes. Can I help now?"

The butler looked up from his baking and gave the dark-haired teen a warm smile. Ever since he was little, Dick had enjoyed popping in and out of the kitchen, helping where he could and watching attentively when Alfred considered the task too dangerous for him. The best thing was that Dick, unlike his mentor, seemed to be able to handle himself in the kitchen without burning something.

"Very well. You may start by taking that tray of cookies out of the oven, but be sure to use the oven mitts… and please be careful, sir!"

"Have I ever _not_ been careful, Alfred?"

"Well…"

"Never mind," Dick sighed.

Alfred shook his head and chuckled to himself. Nevertheless, he kept a watchful eye on the young master as he carefully removed the steaming-hot treats from the oven.

"Either I'm seeing spots or these are chocolate chip cookies," Dick commented playfully as he placed the tray on the counter.

"The latter, Master Dick. I thought that you and Master Roy might enjoy them while completing your homework assignments this evening."

"Thanks."

Suddenly, the telephone in the living room started ringing. Alfred told the boy to keep an eye on the second batch of cookies and went to answer it. Dick just stood there and removed the oven mitts. Then he did what he'd been trying to avoid doing ever since making the mistake of entering the kitchen.

He gazed at the cookies he'd just removed from the oven.

Even when he closed his eyes to avoid the sight, he could still smell the delicious aroma of the hot sugary dough blending with sweet chocolate. It had always smelled good to him, but after quite literally starving himself for nearly four days, it just smelled that much better. He hadn't realized how hungry he was up until a few moments ago. As ridiculous as it sounded, Dick almost thought he could _hear_ them calling out to him, trying to convince him to just lift a cookie from its spot on the tray and take a big mouthwatering bite out of it…

_NO!_

Dick physically jumped in shock, and was horrified to realize that he had actually been about to do what he had imagined doing—until the Voices had stopped him.

But, for the first time in months, Dick's hunger was stronger than they were. It had been suppressed for too long, and Dick just couldn't take it anymore.

Unable to control himself, Dick reached out and grabbed one of the fresh-baked cookies, ignoring the pain as the melted chocolate burned his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He didn't even hear the Voices as he gobbled down the sweet treats.

What brought him back to his senses was the sound of Alfred's footsteps in the hallway.

Quickly choking down the rest of the cookie in his mouth, Dick poured himself a glass of water and swallowed it in one big gulp, feeling an uncomfortable lump in his throat as it went down. Then he pretended to be preoccupied with the cookies in the oven.

By the time Alfred reentered the kitchen, everything was exactly the way it had been when he'd left.

Except for the fact that three chocolate chip cookies were missing.

Alfred smiled knowingly and watched the boy as he 'innocently' looked at the half-baked cookies in the oven.

"Master Dick…?"

"Hm? Oh… yes Alfred?"

"I seem to remember there being twelve cookies on that tray, yet now there are only nine. How would you account for a discrepancy like that, sir?"

Dick glanced up, took a quick peek at the tray, and then continued looking at the oven door.

"I dunno… maybe… Wally snuck in and swiped 'em?"

"_Did _he?"

"Um… no? Sorry, Alfred…"

"Not to worry, young sir," Alfred assured the boy. "There are plenty more where that came from. But next time… please _ask _first?"

Dick nodded and grinned weakly. Alfred vaguely wondered why the boy was so nervous all of a sudden; he had stolen food from the kitchen plenty of times before. He knew he wouldn't get into too much trouble for it.

Before he could ask any questions, however, Dick straightened up and declared, "I'd give these cookies about ten more minutes. In the meantime, I-I guess I'd better go back upstairs and get my homework together for when Roy gets here… see you later."

Dick gently placed the oven mitts back on the counter and went back up to his room, unable to believe how heavy he felt. He couldn't even remember being this full before. All he knew was that he had to do something about it, and fast.

There was only one thing that came to mind, and it wasn't pleasant. He'd done it a couple of times—before starting the fast that had ended several minutes earlier—and it _definitely_ wasn't something he looked forward to doing again.

But he had to. He deserved this punishment for inexcusably losing control the way he just had.

The next thing he knew, he had locked his bathroom door, knelt in front of the toilet, and shoved a couple of fingers down his throat…

---

Roy pounded up the stairs to the ground floor of the Manor, trying to be as loud as he could (Roy always arrived at the Manor for visits via transporter from JLA Watchtower to Batcave). He knew that always annoyed the heck out of Dick… if he was on the ground floor to hear it, that is. If not, Alfred would hear it, and then he'd be in trouble.

Today, he was in trouble.

"You decided to come by way of elephant again, I hear," was the dry greeting he got from the Wayne butler.

"It's the _only_ way to travel," Roy answered with a broad grin. "Where's Dick?"

"Upstairs, I believe. I'll call him for you, sir—you may wait here."

"Thanks."

As Alfred exited the room, Roy sat down on the couch and opened his math book on the coffee table in front of him. The quicker they got this over with, the better.

Roy only had to wait for about two or three minutes before Dick showed up. He seemed a little pale to Roy, but he put it down to his slightly overactive imagination.

"I thought you'd never get here—you said you'd be here by seven," Dick observed after the usual hellos.

"Nice to see you, too."

Dick smirked at the sarcastic answer and sat down next to his red-haired friend as Alfred returned. He had a plateful of chocolate chip cookies with him (and napkins, of course).

"Alright! Thanks, Alfred!" Roy cried enthusiastically, instantly reaching for one of the cookies. Dick just rolled his eyes, picked up the math book, checked the table of contents, and flipped to the chapter on dividing fractions. He couldn't believe Roy was having trouble with this—it wasn't _that_ difficult. Roy just didn't apply himself. Wally may not get it either, but at least he _tried_.

"Okay, which part are you having trouble wi—"

"These cookies are really good. Aren't you gonna have any?"

"No. Now which part do you—"

"Great! More for me! Hey, why not?"

"Because I'm trying to cut back on the sweets. Now—"

For the third time, Dick was interrupted by Roy. However, this time it was because Roy had practically choked on the cookie he was eating. Dick had to pat him on the back several times to calm him down.

"Next time, try chewing first," he suggested wryly.

Roy shook his head as if to indicate that speed hadn't played a part in the little incident.

"You're _cutting back_ on _sweets?!_" Roy asked incredulously as he wiped his mouth on a napkin. "You're kidding me, right? Dick, your idea of sweets is putting butter on your toast, and now you're saying you're on a diet?"

"Essentially, yes," replied Dick, beginning to sound a bit irritable. "Now I'm assuming that you didn't come here to criticize my eating habits, so if you don't mind…?"

Dick held up the opened math book as if to say that he wanted to start tutoring now.

"Alright, alright. Don't be a grouch," Roy grumbled.

---

The next morning, Roy was up early and at the Tower, completing his math assignment before going to school that day. Dick's tutoring had helped a little, but he still found this junk downright boring and couldn't seem to concentrate.

Roy was alone in the place for about half an hour before he was joined by Wally, who said he'd just wanted to get away from his parents for a while.

"Fine by me, just don't talk too much," Roy had told him. "I've gotta get this stupid assignment done by fifth period math or else."

"Fair enough. But why don't you just ask Dick for help? He always helps me with _my_ homework."

Roy rolled his eyes. He knew that Wally was just trying to be helpful, but sometimes he could be such a nosy little so-and-so.

"I _did_ already. I still keep forgetting to turn the stupid second fraction upside-down before multiplying."

"You mean the reciprocal?"

"Ye—hey, how'd you know?!"

"Dick helped me with that last month. I got a B+ on the test, too."

"Shut up, Twinkletoes," Roy grumped. He placed his chin in his hand and went back to glowering at the fractions as Wally smirked proudly. It was nice to know he was better than somebody at something, even if Robin would_ always_ be the smartest.

---

Dick threw his pencil down in frustration. Whoever invented algebra should be strangled, he decided. Which meant that a lot of ancient Babylonians and Persians were goin' _down_.

No matter how hard he concentrated, he just couldn't solve the problems. Since when had school gotten so hard? He used to be able to finish these homework assignments in about half an hour, and then spend the rest of the day on the pommel horse or the balance beam or something. Nowadays, he had to stare at these darned problems until his eyes crossed and the numbers started blurring together.

He had to get rid of it.

Not the algebra, but something far more important—his dinner. Sure, he'd thrown it up as he usually did when Bruce made him eat all of it. But he had never been very good at the whole sticking-the-finger-down-the-throat routine. Besides, his fingers were starting to turn a sickening shade of red from being employed in that deplorable method once too often. Bruce was beginning to get suspicious.

He had to get rid of it, and he had to do it better.

But how?

If Dick had been your average teenager, he might have needed to do a little research online or at his local library to find out what would help him in this situation. But being Batman's sidekick meant having extensive knowledge of all kinds of chemicals and their effects on humans.

So Dick already knew what he wanted.

The question was how to get away with it, but he already had an idea of how he could do _that_.

Sure, he knew it would be dangerous, but no more dangerous than going one-on-one against the Joker, which he did on a near-monthly basis. Besides, the reward would be worth the risk.

Just wait. He'd lose a few more pounds and everything would be _perfect_.

* * *

**Anybody care to guess what Dick's latest plan in is? Unfortunately, people with EDs sometimes _do_ use the chemical that our Boy Wonder is about to... and I'm not kidding about it being dangerous. So don't ever ever ever ever EVER do what Dick is about to do!!**

**Okay, I think you get the message. Now onto the replies. _Muchas gracias_ to everybody who has reviewed so far! You cannot imagine how much I appreciate it.**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**caltha-**Thank you for being one of my loyal reviewers :) I know, poor guy. And I'm afraid things won't get much better in upcoming chapters.

**ShockMePeter**-Happy New Year to you, too! And you made several good points there, my friend. I've read a few comics--all from 1966. That was a good year. XD

**SarahC4321**-Of course I remember you! We were trying to figure out how to take over DC Comics :) Don't worry, I get that way about certain stories, too. For future reference, I update every Saturday.

**Syl**-I'm very glad you approve of my story--I was afraid everybody would hate me for it and chase me off the website. ;-) So glad to hear different!

**kokomocalifornia-**Hey, you're right! (throw resolution out nonexistent window)

**CrazyInsomaniac-**As far as Dick is concerned at the moment, being perfect is synonymous with being thin, which means no eating. But I do enjoy a little character torture every now and then...


	8. Medicine

**Here I am again. I'm sure you're all anxious to just get on with the story, so we will. This one's a bit shorter than usual, but since yesterday was the 41st anniversary of the day the sixties series debuted (confetti, confetti, confetti), I'll be posting another chapter immediately after... and that one's even shorter.**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Seven: 'Medicine'

"Syrup of ipecac."

Wonder Girl carefully examined the sample under the microscope as Robin continued to explain the chemical.

"It's made from the Brazilian Ipecacuanha plant and causes vomiting. It is a very dangerous chemical, and is generally used only in cases of accidental poisoning."

"That's all fine and dandy, Batboy," Speedy interjected, earning himself a glare from Robin, "but what does this _really _have to do with anything?"

"Well, I think this is a good idea," said Aqualad. "Knowing the appearances and uses for several of the most common land chemicals could be useful if we ever run into them during a case. Please go on, Robin."

"Can I say something first?" Kid Flash requested, raising his hand as if he were in school. Speedy rolled his eyes at the naïve action.

"Go ahead, Twinkletoes."

"When I was studying for my report on eating disorders, I learned that some people with bulimia or anorexia use ipecac to try to get rid of the extra calories. Right?"

"…Anorexia?" Robin repeated, looking horrified. "People with… _anorexia_ use this stuff to lose weight?"

"Yeah… hey, you didn't know that?" Kid Flash asked curiously. He cocked his head at the look of utter confusion on Robin's face.

"Well whaddya know! You taught something to the mighty Boy Wonder!" Speedy hooted.

"That'll be enough out of you!" Robin warned. Turning back to Wonder Girl, he said quietly, "You keep going. I'll be right back."

Wonder Girl moved over to allow Aqualad a better look at the ipecac as Robin left the room.

---

Robin slammed the bathroom door shut and leaned against it, breathing hard.

_Anorexics _used the stuff to lose weight, too? What had Kid Flash meant by _that_? He didn't have anorexia! You were only anorexic if you were skin and bones, which he most definitely was _not_.

Well, he wasn't.

Um… right?

Of course not, you idiot. Don't you have eyes? Twinkletoes is lying to you… they're ALL lying to you. You're not losing weight… you're _gaining_ weight, and the ipecac _will _work… don't even bother having just a tablespoon, two or three will work better… go ahead, do it. It'll work, you'll see…

Robin pulled out the bottle of ipecac he had taken the sample from. He had stashed it and all the other chemicals in his utility belt and brought them from the Batcave to the Tower in hopes of teaching the Titans how to use and identify them. At least, that's what he'd told Batman. And that's what Batman had believed.

Without another second of hesitation, Robin had swallowed a mouthful of the ipecac. It tasted so bad that he nearly gagged right then and there. But somehow, he managed to swallow the too-thick substance.

Now all he had to do was wait.

But for how long?

Maybe a little more would help the process along…? C'mon, what harm could it do…?

_A lot. I'm not that stupid._

Don't be such a sucker! If one dose works, then imagine what two will do…

_Yeah, it'll kill me._

God… you're such a coward… no wonder everybody hates you…

Robin scowled and was about to take another dose when the ipecac he had already swallowed began to kick in…

---

"I wonder what this thing does…" Speedy thought aloud. "Hey, Robin—Robin? Hey… It's been almost twenty minutes already, and Birdboy isn't back yet?"

"No," answered Wonder Girl.

"Hey, where _is_ he, anyway?" Kid Flash added.

The Titans all glanced around, as if expecting to see their leader somewhere. But Robin was nowhere in sight.

"I'll go look for him," Kid Flash automatically volunteered. He rose from his chair and left the room at top speed. With his super speed, he'd easily be able to search the entire Tower in under five seconds.

Still, he came up empty until he entered the restrooms. There, he pulled up short in the doorway, stunned by what he was seeing.

Robin, throwing up _very _violently into one of the sinks.

Kid Flash stood there, unable to move. Sure, he'd known that people got the stomach virus, but he'd never actually thought of Robin getting sick—the Boy Wonder had always seemed practically invincible. Plus he'd never seen anybody get so very sick in such a seemingly short time. Robin had been fine a few moments ago!

After a minute or two, Robin finished being sick and wiped his mouth on a towel. He tightened his utility belt and turned to leave, but was startled by the sight of Kid Flash still standing in the door.

"How long have you been there? Geez, learn to knock, will ya…?"

If it had been Speedy who'd walked in on Robin, he probably would have shot back with, _"Well, then, learn to lock the door, for crying out loud."_

"Are you okay?" Kid Flash said.

"Fine," Robin answered shortly.

Kid Flash couldn't help but notice Robin trying to discreetly tuck a small bottle into his utility belt. When the Boy Wonder saw his fellow Titan staring, he just mumbled, a bit defensively, "Medicine."

For some reason, Kid Flash wasn't sure if he believed him.

"Maybe you should go home, Rob, you aren't looking so hot," Kid Flash advised, taking a step forward. He got a hard glare for his concern.

"I said I'm fine. Just…"

Robin swayed a little on his feet and gripped the counter as if trying to steady himself.

"…fine…"

The boy suddenly lurched forward and would have hit the floor hard if Kid Flash's speed hadn't allowed him to catch Robin as he collapsed…

…at the same moment Speedy walked into the bathroom!

"Twinkletoes, what did you _do?!_" he gasped in astonishment.

"Just go tell Wonder Chick and Gillhead to clear off the couch, will you?" Kid Flash replied. Speedy was quick to oblige as the young speedster gently carried the Titans' leader into the rec room.

"What happened?" were the first words out of Wonder Girl's mouth as Kid Flash entered the room.

"Passed out." Kid Flash placed the unconscious Boy Wonder onto the couch and continued, "He was throwing up—he's gotta have a stomach virus or something, and he's got it bad…"

---

Robin came to with a groan and opened his eyes blearily. Where was he, anyway?

Oh, that's right. The Titans' Tower.

"How're you feeling, Robin?" Wonder Girl queried gently. "Here, drink this…"

She offered him something to drink. He seemed a little hesitant at first, but as soon as he realized it was just water, he eagerly emptied the glass.

"Take it easy, Rob, you'll make yourself sick again," Speedy cautioned, not looking overly concerned. "What's the matter with you, anyway? You act like you haven't seen water in days, and we all know you've been drinking enough lately to fill a reservoir."

Robin slammed the glass down onto the coffee table.

"Shut up, Speedy."

But if you were to point out one fault in Green Arrow's partner, it would be that he simply didn't know when to shut up.

"Oh, come on, Rob! Every time we order something to eat, you end up making some stupid excuse to just drink water. If you were aiming at losing about… say… ten pounds around your waist, then congratulations, Miss America. You just made it."

"Speedy!" snapped Wonder Girl as she gave the archer a none-too-gentle shove that knocked him to the floor. In an undertone, she hissed, "He's _sick,_ remember?"

"I am _not _sick! I'm _fine! _And why are you all suddenly so obsessed with my eating?" Robin yelled unexpectedly. "Why can't you all just leave me alone?!"

The other Titans just stood there, staring at their leader in shock.

"Now what? Would you quit staring at me already?!" he cried, becoming more agitated by the second.

His friends quickly lowered their eyes or turned their heads away, wondering why Robin was acting this way.

Robin just stormed from the room and slammed the door behind him.

There was a moment of silence as the Titans raised their heads to stare at the door Robin had just left through.

"What was _that_ all about?" Speedy wondered aloud.

"Well if you hadn't made that Miss America crack…"

"Oh, come on, Twinkletoes, it was just a joke!"

"Well you know how touchy Robin's been about his weight lately," Wonder Girl added. "You should have been a little more sensitive towards him."

"What for?"

"_Honestly_, Speedy, you're such a dork," Kid Flash said with a glare.

---

Dick glanced both ways before coming out from behind the bookcase that hid the stairs to the Cave. When he saw he was alone, he fully entered the study.

He couldn't be too careful these days. It wouldn't do any good to let Bruce see what he had tucked away in the pocket of his jeans.

His jeans.

Which no longer fit him properly.

Which now required a belt to make it look like he hadn't lost any weight.

And he _liked_ that. He was keeping a secret from Bruce Wayne—the World's Greatest Detective. Heh. Some detective. He didn't even know what his own ward was hiding upstairs in his medicine cabinet.

Neither did Alfred.

Dick's triumphant smirk suddenly turned downward in a frown as he thought of this.

If they truly cared, they would have found out about all this by now, and put an end to it. They would have found out about his 'medicine' and taken it away from him.

But they didn't know, and that just seemed to prove Dick's theory—that he was nothing more than a poor circus orphan who Wayne had taken in to train and to make sure that the Bat's legacy lived on, and that was all. They didn't care about him. Nobody cared about him. He was unloved, unwanted… and unworthy of the love that he craved so badly…

With an inaudible sigh, Dick stuck his 'medicine' into the corner of his medicine cabinet and hid it behind a few bottles of 'normal' medication.

Then he headed back downstairs to the gym.

* * *

**Like I said in the last chapter, don't EVER use ipecac to lose weight. People have died from using it (I believe Karen Carpenter would be the most famous example). So don't ever use it, please.**

**Now, on a slightly happier note...**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**caltha-**Gee, you sure predicted _this_ chapter well. Hee. Realistic? Oh good! That's exactly what I was going for! I hope I continue to live up to that in future updates.

**Syl-**Since we aren't really focusing on Dick's school life, none of the teachers will really be playing a role here. However, the Justice League will get quite involved later on...

**Boleyn-**Well, sort of soon... (cough) Don't worry, they find out eventually. Of course.

**kokomocalifornia-**Thank you for the compliment! And yeah, Dick's pushing it here. Next thing you know he'll be exercising when he should be sleeping (hint, hint).

**Kanny-**Here's the next chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. The eighth chapter should show up later today, if the website decides to keep working.

**Queen Caroline**-Oh, new reviewer! Thanks! I'm not sure if I'd say this is brilliant, but you're more than welcome to :) Old joke, I know...

**ShockMePeter-**I know, terribly sorry about the short chapters. I didn't plan them that way. I just wrote it as one huge story and am now dividing it up as appropriately as I can.

**SparklesPlenty-**Another new reviewer! I would update quicker, but I have writer's block on page 84, so I'm trying not to get there fast otherwise you'll be waiting an even longer time later on!

**SarahC4321-**You're very welcome. I so enjoy writing and it makes me glad to see that I'm not the only one benefiting from my work.

**myrina-**That's okay. You've been immensely supportive already! Bragging? About me? I'm very touched and very, very flattered!

**BatThing-**I hope you enjoyed your break, and I'm glad you're back! And like I said in another reply, yes, Dick is definitely pushing it. He'll be pushing more later on.

**JLAfan-**Congrats! You guessed right! Although I'm not sure that's much cause for celebration, congratulations anyway!

**Omalthe2-**Thank you--for reading my stories and for putting me in your favorites! It's very flattering.


	9. Concern and Revelation

**Here's the extra update I promised. Enjoy!**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Eight: Concern and Revelation

Wally sat in his room that evening—not the room he stayed in while visiting Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris, though. His real room, the one at his 'real' home. But because he didn't get along with his parents very well, Wally considered Uncle Barry's place to be home. He wished he could move here permanently, but…

So there he sat, mentally reviewing all of Dick's odd behaviors. Throwing up, irritability, losing weight… it was beginning to look as if there was something seriously wrong with the guy.

_So maybe he's got an eating disorder,_ Wally thought with a smirk.

Suddenly, the grin slipped from Wally's face, and he found himself too stunned to even think straight. All of his thoughts crashed together in a jumbled mess.

_Eating disorder._

The words rang through the boy's mind over and over again, refusing to be silenced. He had never really seriously considered the possibility of Dick having an eating disorder before. It seemed too fantastic to be true. Anyone else, maybe, but _Dick? _Dick was too intelligent, too level-headed, too…

_Obsessive? Uncompromising? A **perfectionist**, maybe? _Wally's subconscious supplied. The red-head scowled and tried to silence the voice in his head.

_Come on, be sensible!_ that annoying voice shot back. _Robby's the biggest perfectionist on earth—and that ain't all. He was a trapeze artist, remember? He's been under pressure to stay thin since before he was born. Remember that?_

The scowl left Wally's face and was replaced by a look of concern… and revelation.

_You think Uncle Barry is always putting pressure on you to be a good crime-fighter? Try working with Batman for a few days. And are YOU the leader of the Titans? How would you like to keep jerks like Speedy in line twenty-four/seven?_

Suddenly, everything began falling into place for Wally. Maybe he was overreacting, but this really made sense to him.

He couldn't possibly be the only one to think that Robin just needed an attitude adjustment. Surely some of the other Titans had noticed the radical changes in their leader's personality.

He'd talk to them in the morning.

---

"Sorry to interrupt you in the middle of your lives, but this is important," Kid Flash said once everyone had arrived. "Just don't tell Robin we're here or he'll probably have a cow."

"Alright, already, can we get on with it? I'm supposed to be grounded, you know, and if GA catches me here, I'm dead," said Speedy.

"Grounded? When did that happen?" Aqualad queried.

"Just after we left yesterday. You see, I—"

"Hello! Remember me! I'm the one who wants to tell you something!" Kid Flash hollered impatiently.

"Alright, so tell us! Geez…" grumbled Speedy.

Kid Flash took a deep breath and began.

"Remember that report I had to work on before? The one about eating disorders?"

"Of course. You wouldn't let us forget," joked Wonder Girl.

"What is an… 'eating disorder'?" Starfire asked.

"It's when you eat weird," Beast Boy explained quickly.

"Not quite. Otherwise, you and Starfire would be the most eating disordered people we know," sighed Kid Flash. "Well, anyway, that report really got me thinking. I started to notice… a lot of the symptoms seem to match Robin's."

There was dead silence from the Titans as they paused to absorb the implication of the boy's words. Kid Flash shifted nervously, just waiting for someone—probably Speedy—to stand up and start yelling.

Sure enough, Speedy was the first to speak up, but his voice was unnaturally quiet.

"So lemme get this straight. You think Robin's got an eating disorder."

Kid Flash nodded uneasily.

Then, much to everyone's surprise, Speedy burst out laughing. Beast Boy and Cyborg soon joined him. Kid Flash glared at them. Of all the reactions he had expected, this was certainly not one of them!

"I get it now!" Speedy choked out. "This is one of your stupid jokes, right?"

"_No._"

Finally, the boys' laughter died down and Speedy sobered up enough to say, "Now, c'mon, KF, Birdboy can't have an eating disorder."

"Well why not?!"

Speedy opened and closed his mouth a few times, too stunned by the question to respond properly.

"Are you serious?" asked Cyborg, incredulous. It was clear that Speedy wasn't the only one who thought Kid Flash was joking.

"Of course I'm serious!" he yelled.

"Calm down, Kid Flash," Raven interjected. "You're right. Robin _has_ been behaving strangely. And we all know that Robin has never been the most… normal… of people when it comes to food. But—"

"Thank you, Mrs. Spock," grumbled Speedy.

Kid Flash glowered viciously at him. Then he added, "Look, guys, I really think Robin's in trouble. I'm going to try to figure out what it is. If you want to help, then great. But I'm doing this with or without you."

Kid Flash left the Tower, hoping the others would at least consider what he had said.

---

"Hi! I'm here!"

Wally barely gave his uncle time to look up from the evening paper before heading into the kitchen for a quick snack.

"It's about time you got here," Barry said, folding the paper. "Where have you been all day, anyway? I thought you were going to spend the weekend being lazy."

"Something came up. I've been over at the Tower all day working on a new case in Gotham."

"Gotham? I'm sure Batman was thrilled."

"Yeah, well… this is kind of a special case…" said the boy, rooting around the refrigerator but finding nothing to his tastes, which was incredibly unusual.

"What kind of case?" Barry questioned.

"Oh, you know, the usual stuff…" Wally answered as vaguely as possible. "Hey, what is this, an interrogation? I thought you learned your lesson last year when Robin and I saved your hide from the Joker!"

Barry just gave his nephew a half-skeptical, half-amused look before finally relenting.

"Alright, go ahead and work on your case. But if I find out that you're misbehaving…"

"Yeah, yeah, got it. Thanks, Uncle Barry!" Wally cried as he disappeared upstairs. He didn't even take the time to sigh in relief before going over to his notebook, ripping out a page, and writing down all of Dick's odd behaviors. Then he matched them up with the page on symptoms in his health report.

Some of Dick's behaviors matched what was written in the report.

Some didn't.

Nevertheless, Wally felt the Teen Titans had sufficient grounds to conduct a full investigation of Dick Grayson.

But where to start?

* * *

**The Joker comment was a reference to another one of my stories, "The Sidekick Strike". You can read it, if you want. And, needless to say, I seriously would not recommend 'investigating' a friend if you suspect them of having an eating disorder. Wally will comment on that later, but I just thought I'd throw it in now.**

**Okay, I'm gonna go watch _Teen Titans_ now. Live Long and Prosper!**


	10. Taking Steps

**I forgot to mention something very important in Chapter Eight. There, Robin thinks that you are only anorexic if you're skin and bones... and that's simply not true. That's just another false stereotype. Similarly, you don't have to be overweight to have compulsive overeating. I should have said that sooner, but I forgot. XP**

**Oh, yeah, and in "Prologue" I said that Dick's birthday is in April. That's wrong. He was born on the first day of spring, meaning he was born in March... whether the 20th or the 21st I have yet to figure out. What was the first day of spring in 1932? O.o**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Nine: Taking Steps

Wally got his first idea the next afternoon. He and some of the other Titans were just hanging around the Tower eating pizza. They clearly had nothing to do; basically, they were waiting for someone to call in and ask for their help. But so far, it looked like it was either unusually peaceful in the world or everyone was relying on the older, more experienced heroes to save the day. Wonderful.

Bored, Kid Flash had suggested they watch something on TV. They ended up putting in a DVD of _Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade_.

About halfway through the movie, after finishing a couple slices of pizza, Robin piped up, "You guys can keep the movie going. I'll be right back."

"Where you going, Wonder Boy?" asked Kid Flash.

"Where does it _look_ like I'm going?"

Kid Flash craned his neck to see. He finally decided that Robin was headed for the restrooms.

That was when Wally got his idea.

"Be right back, people."

Before anybody had time to ask what was going on, Kid Flash was out of the room.

Unless he missed his guess, Robin wasn't going to the restroom for the conventional purposes.

Stopping by the closed door, Kid Flash gently pressed his ear against the crack in the door and listened very carefully. He didn't like what he heard:

An odd choking noise, and then the distinct sound of someone retching.

Kid Flash felt sick himself as he went back to the rec room and sat down to watch the rest of movie. Or at least _pretend_ to watch the rest of the movie.

"What were you doing?" Wonder Girl inquired.

"Nothing. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"_Oh._ It's about _that_, then, is it?"

"Yes. I heard Robin throwing up in the bathroom."

"Really?" Wonder Girl said, cocking an eyebrow and looking concerned. Then she added, "Maybe he simply doesn't feel well, then? Maybe he ate too much?"

"No. I was watching him closely the whole time," argued Kid Flash with a surprising amount of patience. "He only had about two slices. Besides, he didn't look sick to you, did he?"

Wonder Girl reluctantly shook her head 'no'.

"Really, Kid Flash, I do believe you are overreacting," sighed Aqualad.

"I'm not so sure any more," Wonder Girl disagreed. "Maybe there is a _possibility_ of Robin having an—"

Her words were cut off as Robin suddenly reappeared. He sat down without a word. Not bothering to touch any more of the food. Not even looking like he had just been puking his guts out.

Kid Flash just sighed.

This was going to be harder than he'd thought.

---

It was while he was working alone with Batman in the Watchtower that night when he finally saw an opportunity to ask.

"What's the matter with Robin lately, anyway?"

The Dark Knight turned to give Green Arrow a look.

"What?"

"Robin. You know—kinda skinny kid who generally tags along with you whenever there's trouble in Gotham City… remember him now?"

Batman returned to his work, not bothering to answer either question.

"Oh, c'mon, Bats, I'm not as stupid as you think I am," GA continued. "There's something wrong with that kid. Maybe you should—"

"Thank you for the concern. Now if you'd pay as much attention to your _own_ sidekick, you might be qualified to_ make_ such an observation."

Green Arrow scowled at this remark and replied hotly, "Well at least I'd know if Speedy was sick enough to be throwing up!"

Without moving, Batman asked, "Who told you that?"

"I heard him earlier in the bathroom," Green Arrow explained, his voice somewhat calmer. "He said he was fine and asked me not to tell you. But when I mentioned it to the Flash, he said something about how his kid told him that Wonder Boy was sick in the Tower earlier, too, so I figured I'd better…"

The archer let his voice trail off as the Caped Crusader stood and left the room, undoubtedly going to search for his partner.

Ten minutes later, the Dark Knight returned, looking darker than ever.

"He says you must have been mistaken," was the blunt remark.

Green Arrow was visibly shocked, and he said so.

"But what about what Twinkletoes said? About—"

"He denied that, too."

"And you _believe_ him?!"

Nobody needed to tell Green Arrow that that was a stupid question, although the message was reinforced when Batman turned to give him a look that would make any sensible crook stop dead in his tracks.

The pair returned to work without a word, but Green Arrow was clearly confused. He _knew_ he had seen Robin vomiting earlier—it was right after he had seen the kid snacking in the cafeteria with Wonder Girl. In fact, Wonder Girl had had to all but force her fellow sidekick to eat. Robin_ had_ eaten, but then excused himself and…

There was obviously more to this than met the eye.

He'd have to ask Robin why he had lied.

Without Batman knowing, of course. Now _that_ would be a challenge if he ever had one.

---

Robin was alone in the meeting room, pacing the length of the room and silently chastising himself with every step he took.

Why had he let Wonder Girl bully him into eating, anyway? He knew he shouldn't, but he'd let her push him into it anyway! Well, okay, the fact that she had threatened to kick him between the legs if he didn't might have had something to do with it… but still! Because of his weaknesses, he'd been _discovered—again—_and by _Green Arrow_, for crying out loud!

Well, maybe GA hadn't suspected anything. Maybe he'd just accidentally walked in and…

Oh, who was he kidding? He was slipping, losing his edge as a crime-fighter, no, he was downright _failing _as a crime-fighter—he'd managed to keep his secret identity from the world for years, but it only took Green Arrow about two seconds to find him puking in the bathroom. In fact, he'd probably spill the beans about the identity thing pretty soon, too…

Geez, no wonder Batman hated him. He'd probably hate him, too, if he were Batman. He hated himself anyway, come to think of it…

He'd have to do better.

First thing he'd have to do was be more careful about when and where he used his 'medicine'. And when he did have to use it at the Tower or the Watchtower, he'd be sure to _lock_ the _door_, already.

Robin glanced up at the clock and hastily ran out the door. If he didn't get to the gym right now, he'd be late for his evening exercises. That was the _last_ thing he wanted to do, especially after eating earlier that day. Besides, he was almost up to five hundred sit-ups and wanted to see if he could reach that goal tonight.

---

Finally, Batman and Green Arrow finished their work and went their separate ways. Although Green Arrow _did _leave the Watchtower via transporter, he hastily backtracked as soon as he figured that Batman would have gone home. He was going to find Robin, and then he was going to get an explanation out of him if it took all night!

After a quick search of the Watchtower, he soon realized that he had been mistaken—Batman had _not_ gone home. Neither had Robin. They were both in the gymnasium and it looked like they were having a fight.

"Look, I'm just doing what you told me to do," Robin was saying in a defensive tone that sounded funny to Green Arrow. That kid was practically a saint; he _never_ had an attitude. "The second I became your partner,_ you _told me to work out regularly, remember? And now you yell at me for doing just that! I'm beginning to think you constantly _criticize _mejust because you like _yelling_."

"I also told you to _eat _and _keep your grades up_."

"I eat! I just had something to eat with Wonder Girl in the cafeteria! Go ask her if you don't believe me!"

"And your grades?"

Robin opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, unable to answer.

"That's what I thought."

"Come _on_, Batman! You don't honestly expect me to get straight A's in every subject all the time for the rest of my life, do you?"

The look on his mentor's face was more than enough of an answer for Robin. He was a little intimidated at first, but then he angrily retorted, "Well did it ever occur to you that some subjects might actually be _hard_ for some people, Batman? Not everybody is a genius like you, remember? Some of us are normal and actually suffer setbacks every once in a while! Only when everybody else starts to have trouble, _they _have people who are a little more _understanding!_"

The stand-off lasted for nearly a minute. Green Arrow watched in anticipation, wondering who would win.

Batman did, of course. Even Robin was no match for the Dark Knight.

"You have five minutes. If you're not back at the Cave by then, I'm coming back for you."

And without giving the boy time to answer, Batman strode from the room, leaving an infuriated Boy Wonder behind.

Green Arrow stayed in the shadows of the door frame as Batman, luckily, headed in the opposite direction. When he felt it was safe to enter the gymnasium, he was greeted by the sight of Robin slamming his fists into the punching bag with all his strength. The bag swung violently back and forth as Robin stepped away from it and nearly crashed into Green Arrow.

"How long have_ you_ been here?"

"Hey, don't act as if you own this place—you're not even a member of the Justice League!" Green Arrow shot back, unable to control his temper. "And you're still skating on thin ice after getting me into trouble with _your_ senior partner!"

"What are you talking—?"

"What did you mean by telling Bats that you weren't throwing up in the bathroom earlier?! I _saw_ you!"

Robin crossed his arms and glared at the floor.

"Like I told Batman, you must have been mistaken."

"You and I both know that's not true, Wonder Boy."

"Oh, so anything you don't like is not true?" Robin challenged. Storming past the Emerald Archer, he added darkly, "You know, you're beginning to sound like Batman…"

Green Arrow scowled at Robin's back. Well, fine! If Robin wanted to throw up and then lie about it, that was just fine with him!

And with that, Green Arrow went back to the transporter and headed for home.

---

Step two of Kid Flash's plan was going to be even worse than the one about eavesdropping on Robin in the bathroom. He knew that, to determine if Dick had an eating disorder (or more than one), he'd have to observe the guy's eating habits outside of the Tower. And so, being the bright young crime-fighter that he was, Kid Flash decided he'd wangle a dinner invitation out of the Boy Wonder.

Getting permission to accept an invitation to dinner at Wayne Manor was easy.

Actually _getting _the invitation might be a bit harder.

After the other Titans had all gone home for the night, Kid Flash stuck around the Tower with Robin, pretending to help him clean up the place, but really looking for an opportunity to finagle an invitation to dinner out of him.

"Uncle Barry had a fight with Aunt Iris today," Kid Flash fibbed. Well, okay, 'fibbed' is a compliment. 'Lied through his teeth' would be more accurate.

"Really? I'm sorry to hear that," Robin said sympathetically. And Kid Flash could tell he meant it, too. Which wasn't surprising, really—Robin was always more concerned with other people than he was with himself. This was a pretty common thing to find among people with eating disorders, Kid Flash reluctantly noted.

_Gee, how obsessive am I?_

"Yeah," he continued. "You know, I hate eating dinner with them after they've had a fight. They either throw each other evil looks over my shoulders and act like I'm not there, or take it out on me. Loudly. Reminds me of my parents."

"Sounds terrible."

There was an awkward silence between the two teens, a silence which neither was inclined to fill. Kid Flash kept waiting for Robin to say something, but when the Boy Wonder stayed quiet, Kid Flash knew it was up to him to keep the conversation going.

"I already asked Speedy if I could eat dinner at his house, but he nixed it because he's grounded. Again," he hinted rather obviously.

"He must have been crushed," Robin observed dryly. It was no secret that Wally and Roy were _not_ always on the best of terms, and Kid Flash couldn't help but grin at the sarcasm. At least Robin wasn't too far gone to crack jokes.

"Oh, you should have heard him. I thought he was going to burst into tears."

Robin chuckled slightly as he dumped some dirty dishes into the sink.

"Don't bother washing anything tonight, KF," the Boy Wonder instructed. "I've gotta get back home to start training."

"Training? For what?"

"Just training—you know, working on my acrobatic stuff, fighting techniques… basically just keeping myself in shape, really."

"Can I come watch?" Kid Flash eagerly requested. If he went over to the Manor and stayed there late enough, he could count on a dinner invitation from Alfred!

But the unusual request had already made the Boy Wonder suspicious.

"What for?" he asked, eyebrows raised beneath the mask.

"Well maybe if I watch the way you train, then it'll help me become just as good a crime-fighter as you are!"

Well, it _sounded_ like something he might say. Besides, compliments could only help in this situation.

"Well, I… I'd rather you didn't…"

Kid Flash blinked in surprise.

"Why not? Have I got BO or somethin'?"

"No, it's just that… well, I'm not used to working with an audience," Dick insisted, taking another armload of dishes over to the sink.

Well, that was a lie and they both knew it. Dick himself had told Wally that he had been born in a circus. If that didn't get you used to working with an audience, nothing did.

"I won't get in your way—honest!" Kid Flash insisted, pretending not to notice the little fib. "I'll just stay in the corner and observe, just the way you taught me!"

The red-head shaped his hands into little circles and placed them over his eyes to simulate binoculars, and then began scanning the room as if searching for an unseen enemy. When he noticed that Robin was not smiling back, Kid Flash lowered his arms and pleaded, "C'mon, Robby, please? Just this once?"

"Well…"

"_Pleeeeeaaaaase…?_"

---

Fifteen minutes later, Wally was sitting on one of the mats in the corner of the Wayne Manor gymnasium, watching Dick do his thing. The Titans' leader was currently working on the horizontal bar, and even Wally had to admit that it was a joy to watch. He had, of course, known about Dick's athletic prowess, but it wasn't often in their crime-fighting careers that they really felt a need for _these_ kinds of stunts.

Now he understood why Dick loved it so much.

But as Dick's routines became longer and more complicated, the smile began to fade from Wally's face. He was finally beginning to realize something—

Dick was pushing too hard.

Upon checking the clock, Wally noticed that he'd been sitting there for well over an hour and a half, and his friend hadn't even paused for a break. Not to rest, not for water… nothing. He just kept on going.

And he was tiring quickly.

Wally let fifteen minutes pass before finally calling out to his friend, startling him into falling off the bar with a muted thump and an "Oof!" Luckily, he escaped serious injury, thanks to the mats below him.

"You promised you'd keep quiet!" Dick almost snapped at him.

"I just thought you might be thirsty right about now. Those routines sure looked draining," Wally replied.

"That shows what you know," Dick grumbled, wiping his face with a towel that had been unceremoniously dumped on a mat under the horizontal bar. "Those _happened _to be some of the easy ones."

"Still, you've been doing them a long time. You should take a break."

"Wally, I appreciate the concern, but I think I know a little more about gymnastics than you do."

"A sport is a sport, and you need water when you play sports."

"Who's playing?"

Dick slung the damp towel over his shoulder, lightly punched Wally on the arm, and said with a smirk, "If you're that worried about it, I think Alfred made some lemonade earlier. Gimme fifteen more minutes and we'll get some."

Wally grinned triumphantly and, fifteen minutes later, was more than glad to follow Dick through the winding corridors of Wayne Manor to the kitchen, where Alfred was preparing dinner.

"Hey, Alfred. You wouldn't happen to have any of that lemonade left, would you?" Dick inquired in his classic charmer/conniver voice. Alfred recognized it and raised an eyebrow at the boys, smiling all the while.

"It's in the refrigerator, Master Dick."

"Thanks."

Dick poured them both glasses of the sweet yellow liquid and handed one to Wally.

"Bottom's up!" the black-haired boy said, somewhat sarcastically. Wally grinned back and downed the lemonade in three large gulps.

"Hey, Dick, you having a birthday party this year?"

Dick gave him a funny look.

"Since when do I throw birthday parties?"

"You threw one for Garth."

"_No_."

"Aw, c'mon, Dickie—"

"Don't call me that."

"—why _don't_ you have a party?" Wally asked, ignoring Dick's commentary. "You could invite me and all of the Titans, plus that chick Barbara and all your friends from school… hey, your guardian _will _let you have one, won't he?"

"I dunno. I never asked him."

"So _ask him!_" Wally urged, giving his friend a light push.

"Why don't _you_ ask him? He's right behind you."

Wally whirled around to see that Bruce had just walked into the kitchen and was leaning against the doorframe. The look on his face indicated that he had overheard the entire conversation, which wasn't surprising.

"Yes, Wally, why don't you?" Bruce said sarcastically, knowing full-well what the response would be. And he was right:

"Uh…"

"Dick can have a party if he wants to," the man answered. "He just never expressed any interest before."

"And I still don't," Dick said pointedly.

"Why not?" Wally asked him. He was clearly getting excited about the idea. "I'll bet you could have one heckuva party in this place!"

"I'll bet," Alfred remarked.

"Parties aren't really my thing, Wally," Dick explained, looking uncomfortable. He took another sip of lemonade and went on, "I've been to a lot of Bruce's society things and I never really liked them. Besides, I wouldn't even know how to _act _at a party, let alone how to _host_ one."

"What's the matter? Haven't you ever been to a kids' party before? Besides the one we threw for Garth, I mean."

Much to Wally's surprise, Dick shook his head 'no'.

"What…? You mean none of your friends from school have ever invited you to one of their parties?"

With another sarcastic grin, Dick shot back, "Who ever said I had friends at school?"

But before the conversation could be continued, Alfred interrupted once again, this time to tell them that dinner would be ready in fifteen minutes.

"Will you be staying for dinner, Master Wallace?"

"Could I?"

"If you would like."

"Gee, thanks!"

Only Wally saw the look on Dick's face as the invitation was eagerly accepted.

And it was not a happy look.

Clearly, Dick didn't want anybody watching him while he ate—maybe he had planned on skipping the meal altogether. But now, with his friend staying for dinner, he would have no choice but to sit down and eat.

As quickly as that look came, it vanished under a big smile and a "Happy to have you, pal."

---

It wasn't often that something could make Wally West feel uncomfortable. However, it quickly became apparent that dinner at Wayne Manor was to be one of those few things.

First of all, eating at the same table as Bruce Wayne was just _weird_. The guy barely said two words throughout dinner. Come to think of it, he didn't even say _that _much. Wally knew he should be used to that by now, seeing as how he spent so much time at the Watchtower with the Justice League, which naturally included spending time with the Dark Knight. But still, it was pretty unnerving.

And Bruce wasn't the only one who didn't speak at the table; Dick was surprisingly quiet, just slowly chewing his food and pushing what he didn't eat around the plate. He'd occasionally glance up at his legal guardian, and Bruce would sometimes sneak a glance at Dick when he thought nobody was looking, but neither said a word. All of Wally's attempts at conversation fell flatter than a pancake.

If he never had to eat dinner here again, it would be all too soon. But at least he accomplished what he had come for—to observe Dick's eating habits.

For an hour he sat there, dutifully eating his meal and watching as Dick did everything in his power to avoid swallowing the food before him. He didn't seem to have a problem with most of the vegetables, but the chicken and rice was a different story. Sometimes he'd put a bit in his mouth, chew it for a while, and then discreetly spit it out into his napkin. But for the most part, Wally noticed, Dick just poked at the food before him, not lifting a single forkful to his lips.

He did, however, drink an abnormally large amount of water.

_Definitely_ anorexic behaviors.

Although, of course, the excessive water consumption could have been because of all the exercising…

"Not hungry again, Dick?"

Wally's head jerked up at the unexpected sound of Bruce Wayne's voice. So the man _could_ speak!

"No," his ward answered shortly.

"I thought you liked chicken and rice."

"I had a lot to eat at the Tower today."

Then Dick shot his red-haired friend a sideways glance, as if defying him to tell Bruce anything different.

Wally took a sip of water and remained perfectly silent.

No, he wouldn't tell anyone.

Not yet.

---

Well, Wally just barely managed to make it through dinner (or so it seemed to him). And by the time he got home, he was beginning to realize what he was doing, and that finding out he was right would _not_ be a good thing.

He had known that eating disorders were very serious illnesses, and that gymnasts were at an especially high risk of developing them—heck, Christy Henrich had even _died_ from it before her 23rd birthday—but… Dick?

And truth be told, Wally was still in denial about it. No matter how much evidence he piled up against Dick, there was always this little part of him that kept saying 'It's not true, it can't be true, please don't let it be true'. And Wally was reluctant to silence that part of him. It meant he was giving up hope. It would mean accepting Dick as a real eating-disordered teenager, and maybe even _forcing_ him into treatment.

Something like the old 'saying it out loud makes it seem more real' thing.

Something like that.

Nevertheless, Wally wrote down his dinnertime observations and stored them in a shoe box under his bed. He'd been using it to store the evidence for this latest Titans 'case'.

And then he tried to go to sleep.

The next day was a Monday, and it turned out to be a snow day. Wally was spending it at his aunt and uncle's house. First thing in the morning, though, he was up and over at the Tower, doing more research on Dick Grayson.

While writing his report, Wally had learned that people often developed eating disorders more easily if they had a family history of the disease, or of depression. So the next thing he had to do was look up Dick's family history and see if the Graysons were 'genetically predisposed' (as the report said) to developing the destructive mental illnesses.

But where to start searching? Wally already knew that Dick had been part of a trapeze act in a circus before his parents' deaths. Too bad he hadn't asked Dick _which_ circus he was from.

Well, that's where the internet came in handy.

Plugging the words 'Dick+Grayson' into a search engine, Kid Flash actually groaned aloud when he saw the number of responses he had come up with.

Oh, well. Good thing he had his super speed!

It took the boy a matter of seconds to wade through the thousands of useless responses and find the one he needed—an article from an online newsletter, advertising the circus's arrival on the coast of New Jersey. The only reason Kid Flash was sure that this was the right circus was because the article made brief mention of the Flying Graysons' murder.

But he wasn't really too concerned with that part.

"Haly's Circus…" he murmured.

So focused on his work was he that he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the phone ringing. He promptly went over to answer it, leaving the article up on the screen.

"Titans' Tower. Kid Flash here."

"I was hoping to catch you in."

Kid Flash grinned. He had easily recognized the voice as Uncle Barry's.

"Listen, I need you back here in Central City for a bit. Apparently, Mirror Master has gotten the brilliant idea to start trapping prominent government figures and holding them for ransom. You aren't busy with anything else, are you?"

"Um, no. Just let me close up here, 'kay, Uncle Barry?"

"Sure thing. I'll see you in a minute."

Kid Flash groaned a little as he hung up the phone. If Flash needed him in Central City, who was left to check out Robin's family history?

Aqualad, of course.

Kid Flash pressed a button on his communicator and was soon talking to his fellow Titan.

"Hey, Aqualad? Kid Flash. Get your butt out of Atlantis and over to the Tower. I have something important for you to do."

_"This would not be connected with your 'eating disorder' theory, would it?" _were his first words.

Kid Flash sighed in exasperation, thinking Aqualad wouldn't notice. He was wrong.

_"I thought so. Kid Flash, I know as well as you do that something has been distressing Robin greatly over the course of the past few months, but I doubt that it is an eating disorder. Besides, I thought Robin was the only one who gave orders."_

"Consider it a personal favor, then."

This time, it was Aqualad who sighed. Quite audibly.

_"Alright. What would you like?"_

"Great, thanks. Listen, I've already checked it out—apparently, Dick was born in a traveling show called Haly's Circus. They're at a little Louisiana town near the Gulf coast right now. Your job is to talk to the circus owner—some 'Pop Haly' guy—and see if you can find out if Dick's family has a history of anorexia and/or depression."

_"Fine, I will do it. But, as Speedy says, you'll owe me for this."_

"Whatever. Just do it."

Aqualad sighed again.

_"I'm on my way. Aqualad out."_

* * *

**There's a nice long chapter for you. Oh, and Christy Henrich didn't _technically_ die of anorexia, it was multiple organ failure _brought on _by anorexia. Okay, you really didn't need to know that but I just wanted to make sure nobody went all technical on me :) I don't really think this is my best chapter, but I'll leave that up to you... anywho...**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**JLAfan-**Thank you! Batman will find out... eventually... (cough) You know how he is.

**SarahC4321-**Thanks! I'll remember. ;-) I know, they really should be listening to KF right about now. But he has a history of practical jokes, so I guess I can't blame the Titans too much...

**Boleyn-**I don't really know what Dick's fate is going to be at this point. I've been playing around with several ideas and am not sure which to pick. We'll see!

**kokomocalifornia-**Wally does have a good heart. It's the rest of him we have to worry about, lol.

**SparklesPlenty-**Dickie is definitely in it deep here. As for rock bottom... well, not quite yet, I'm afraid. And Clark will be playing a key part later in the story. MUCH later, but we'll get there.

**caltha-**Wow. Gee. Not much I can say to those kind of compliments... but know that I appreciate them very, very much!! And as for the League, yes, they will be quite involved soon...

**ShockMePeter-**I admit it. I'm mashing continuity but good with this fic. I'm not crazy about what DC has done with these characters anyway, so I guess this is my idea of revenge.

**Queen Caroline-**Muchisimas gracias! 8)

**BatThing-**And _I'm_ glad you're glad! And that you review, of course.

**kuramagal-**Excellent point, and I don't mind input at all! On the contrary, I really appreciate it. I'll go through the story and see what I can do in future chapters. Thanks!


	11. More Problems

**Okay, in this chapter, I decided to be cute and put in two references to sixties TV. I'm sorry, I must have been _really _tired. One of them is slightly more obvious than the other... I'll tell you what they are next chapter. Any and all guesses are welcome. Once again, I apologize for my stupidity... but it was too easy... :)**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Ten: More Problems

That had to be it, Aqualad decided. There, right on the beach, were a bunch of strong, burly men setting up big colorful tents. A small fleet of trailers was nearby, one of them with the bright, intricate orange words 'Haly's Circus' printed boldly on the side.

Yup, this was definitely the place. And it wasn't hard to believe that Dick had been born here; his colorful Robin costume and his acrobatic abilities were obviously reminders of his circus days. Besides, the circus was so lively and colorful.

Just like Robin used to be.

Aqualad sighed a little. Why was he doing this? He didn't even believe Robin had a stupid eating disorder. So what the heck was he doing here?

_Because Kid Flash is your friend and he asked for a favor. And you were too much of a sucker to refuse him!_

The black-haired teen slowly pulled himself out of the water and headed over to the trailer with 'Haly's Circus' written on it. He got several odd looks as he passed by the various circus performers. But then again, Aqualad felt like giving _them _some pretty weird looks himself.

He gently knocked on the door of the trailer. A man's voice called "Come in!" and Aqualad did so.

The trailer was even smaller on the inside than it had appeared from the outside. It was quite cluttered, and the only lighting came from an unornamented light bulb hanging from the ceiling and from the sunshine that flooded through the window. A fold-away bed was to the left, bookshelves were nearly everywhere, and there was a small desk set up in the middle of the room. Behind the desk sat a portly man of about fifty years of age, who looked understandably surprised to see a superhero standing in his trailer.

"Aqualad," was all he said.

"Yes. We must talk."

As Aqualad approached him, Haly inquired, "We haven't been disturbing the underwater life, have we?"

"No, I am not here to talk about that."

_Why does everyone automatically assume I'm going to lecture them about fish?_

"I am working on a case in Gotham City with the Titans—you have heard of the Teen Titans, right?"

Haly nodded, still staring at him.

"And, to the best of my knowledge, you had a trapeze act called the Flying Graysons a few years ago, did you not?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Aqualad realized that that was the wrong thing to say. The Graysons had probably been good friends with this Pop Haly; bringing up their murders like_ that_ was tactlessness bordering on Speedy proportions.

Haly closed his eyes and said nothing for a moment, unhappy about being reminded of that black day. This just made Aqualad feel worse.

Finally, the man opened his eyes and said, "Yes, we did. They were murdered during a charity performance in Gotham City. What about it?"

"You wouldn't happen to recall the name of their physician, would you? I have an urgent need to see the Graysons' medical records."

"…Of course, Aqualad. Haly's Circus has its own doctor who travels with us and is specially trained to handle any emergencies that come up in our… unique environment. I'll just get him for you…"

"Thank you."

As Aqualad waited for Haly to return with the doctor, he took another look around the cramped trailer. It was a far cry from the lavish Wayne Manor but certainly seemed more 'homey' than Dick's current residence. Why anyone would want to leave the circus was beyond him; it seemed like a nice place.

Then again, Dick hadn't had a choice in the matter.

Before Aqualad could ponder the matter further, the door to the trailer opened again. Pop Haly had returned, and with him was a tall man with reddish-brown hair.

"Aqualad, this is Dr. Clayton Harris. Clayton, I'm sure you've heard of Aqualad—Aquaman's sidekick? He says he's working on a case for the Teen Titans."

Man and boy cordially shook hands before the former handed over a manila folder. Aqualad made note of how thick it was, indicating that the Graysons had a long history with this Haly's Circus. Hopefully, this folder would provide the answers that Kid Flash wanted.

Sitting down at Haly's desk, Aqualad promptly started flipping through the pages. Well, there was Dick's, right on top. The last Grayson. Then John and Mary's—those must have been his parents, as they both came right before Dick's and were listed as 'Status: deceased. Cause: Fell from trapeze'. And in the little doctor's notes at the bottom, it mentioned that they had fallen because some man named Zucco had loosened the ropes.

Right after those three files came one for an Amanda Grayson. She, too, had been a trapeze artist.

_It must be the family profession,_ Aqualad thought. Then, something at the bottom of the document caught his eye:

_Status: Deceased _

_Cause: Cardiac Arrest_

_Doctor's Notes: Cardiac arrest was probably brought on by _anorexia nervosa_. Judging by the testaments of friends and family, we now believe that Amanda struggled with the disease for over forty years. _

Aqualad's eyes widened in horror.

No… just because Dick's grandmother had had an eating disorder hardly meant that Dick would…

Or would he?

Spotting an instamatic camera on the edge of the desk, Aqualad asked Haly if he could borrow it for a moment. Upon receiving an okay, he quickly took a couple of photos of Amanda's medical record, making sure he got an especially clear picture of the doctor's notes.

Then he left, wondering…

_Is he, or isn't he?_

_---_

"So did you find anything?"

Aqualad sighed inwardly. Not a 'hello', not a greeting of any sort from his fellow Titan. Just a demand.

"Yes," he answered nonetheless.

"_Well?!_"

Silently, Aqualad handed over the photos he had taken of the health records. Kid Flash grabbed them eagerly and examined them with interest.

"His grandmother!" Kid Flash cried out triumphantly. "His grandmother was anorexic! There, you see? Now we know that somebody else in his family had an ED, which substantially increases Dick's chances of developing it himself!"

"You have not finished reading it, have you?"

Kid Flash blinked at Aqualad, and then turned back to the photos in his hand.

"She died of cardiac arrest. So?"

"It means her disorder was severe enough to fatally weaken her heart," Aqualad concluded in a low tone. "If you are correct about Robin, then he could be in the same danger."

Quickly sobering up, Kid Flash said quietly, "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Slowly, almost uncertainly, Aqualad stepped forward to place a hand on the other boy's slumped shoulder.

"If you need anything else… I will be happy to help you."

Kid Flash nodded. He didn't bother to look up as Aqualad left the Tower.

Of course he had known about the potentially-fatal complications of anorexia and the other eating disorders. But hearing it voiced aloud was enough to put that extra sense of urgency back into the case.

---

After his meeting with Aqualad in the Tower, Wally went straight back to his aunt and uncle's home in Central City. Meeting nobody on the way in, the boy headed up to his room unnoticed.

As soon as he closed his bedroom door, Wally pulled the pictures of the Graysons' medical history out of his shirt. Then he fell to his knees and pulled the shoe box out from under his bed.

He opened the box and placed the photos gently on top of the report and the notes he'd been making about his friend.

Now that he thought about it, this was probably not the best way to be handling the possibility of Dick having an eating disorder. He should have confronted _Dick himself_ with his suspicions. Or, at the very least, he should have told Uncle Barry or Aunt Iris or somebody else and had _them_ talk with the guy. He probably should not be snooping around behind his back; that could only cause an angrier reaction from Dick later on when—and if—he got around to speaking to him.

But Wally was a Teen Titan. When he saw something suspicious, he investigated. It was in his nature.

But it was still no excuse.

Well, too late now. Besides, if Dick wouldn't listen to anything else, he'd listen to hard cold evidence.

Maybe.

---

Dick stood silently by the window, watching the rain. Bruce was right behind him, going over something or other, but Dick would bet that the man had no idea he wasn't alone in the room. Bruce could get so absorbed in his work that it was just insane.

Then again, Dick was pretty absorbed himself at the moment. He was busy trying to think of a new excuse for not eating the meat in his dinner. He couldn't eat that stuff—it just wasn't safe. But Bruce and Alfred didn't see it that way, so Dick would have to keep thinking of new excuses to avoid the fatty foods.

Of course, lying to those two and getting away with it was no easy task.

That's just because you're a weakling, Dick had been told. And he believed it. It was true, wasn't it? How else could he explain the incident with the Joker and every other time he'd allowed himself to be kidnapped or injured? He was nothing but a liability to the Titans and to Batman, why he had even been allowed to become such an important man's partner was beyond him…

_Alright, already, will you just stop it? _

Dick had meant for the sentence to be an order, but it came off as begging instead—and boy did they know it. Dick may have been an ace crime-fighter, but even he was no match for them.

Listen to you, begging for mercy… can't take a few insults, huh? How pathetic…

_I **know**! You've **told **me that!_

Just reminding you… making sure you don't forget what a worthless waste of space you are… Because you _are_ forgetful, you know… no, you're just too _lazy_ to _try_ to remember things…

Dick put his hands over his ears, trying to block out the unbearable Voices, but the insults just kept coming.

…Forgetful, lazy, stupid, ugly…

_Stop it, STOP it!_

…Useless, and let's not forget fat, MOST of all…

"Stop it! _Stop it!"_

_---_

"Stop it! _Stop it!"_

Bruce's head jerked up at the sound of Dick's screams. He hadn't even known that the boy was in the room, let alone that he was in pain.

But… he didn't _look _like anything was wrong with him…

"Dick…?"

But Dick continued to yell at his unseen tormentor. Bruce leapt up from his chair and went over to the boy, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him a little.

"Dick, what is it?"

"Stop it! Just _stop_ it!"

"Richard!"

"Just… stop… I…"

Dick stood there panting as if he had just woken up from a nightmare. Bruce watched as the boy glanced around with a disconcerted look in his eyes.

"Bruce?" he whispered questioningly.

"You alright, kid?"

"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine."

"You sounded like you were in pain."

"I'm fine, Bruce."

The man inwardly raised an eyebrow at the sudden, definite edge in Dick's voice. Clearly, he didn't want to discuss the incident.

"Alright then," Bruce said. "Why don't you go upstairs and finish your homework?"

Dick nodded, still looking vaguely confused.

He could feel Bruce's eyes burning a hole in his back as he turned to leave. He knew Bruce was wondering what had happened to him back there and, in truth, Dick was wondering the same thing.

---

Dick refused to go out on patrol with his mentor that night, instead choosing to focus on his homework.

Had Bruce known that his ward would be spending nearly five solid hours on his schoolwork, he probably would have forced the boy to come with him.

But as it was, Bruce went out alone and left Dick in his room to complete his assignments. When Bruce came back at about five the next morning, he found Dick asleep at his desk, his head buried in his arms. He almost let the boy sit there for the rest of the night, but eventually decided to pick him up and carry him the few feet to his bed.

It proved to be a mistake.

As Bruce gently held the boy in his arms, Dick stirred and lazily opened his eyes. He blinked a bit to focus before asking softly, "What's going on?"

"You fell asleep doing your homework. I didn't mean to wake you," Bruce explained.

"…Homework?" Dick mumbled drowsily, uncomprehendingly.

"Don't worry about it."

Bruce carefully placed Dick in his bed and moved to pull the covers up over the sleepy teenager.

Dick's eyes started to close again, seemingly of their own accord. Just before drifting off, he managed to mumble, "What time is it?"

"Five in the morning. Now go back to sleep."

"'Kay… _Five in the morning?!_"

Suddenly wide awake, Dick sat bolt-upright and tried to leap out of bed.

"Hey, slow down there, Boy Wonder! Just where do you think you're going?"

"Well _downstairs,_ duh! I always wake up at five to start my morning work-out…"

"Not today, you don't," Bruce countered. As Dick opened his mouth to protest, Bruce held up a hand and went on, "You were obviously up pretty late doing homework, and you should get at least a couple hours of rest before getting up to go to school."

"But—!"

"Don't even try it, Dick. And no more late nights, understand?"

Seeing that there was no point in going against one of Bruce's orders, Dick grudgingly nodded.

Thirty minutes later, Bruce was awakened from a sound slumber by Alfred's gentle shaking and whispered calls.

"What…? Alfred, what is it?" Bruce asked, instantly becoming alert.

"I'm sorry to wake you, sir, but…"

"Well? What is it?"

"It's Master Dick," the butler admitted. "He's in the gym working out on the pommel horse, and he simply refuses to go back to sleep."

Bruce muttered a curse under his breath and threw on his robe. Alfred watched his oldest charge storm from the room, undoubtedly about to give Dick the lecture of a lifetime.

_I suppose I had better keep an eye on those two to make sure things don't get out of hand…_ he mused.

So he followed Bruce downstairs. By the time he reached the first floor, he could already hear Bruce and Dick beginning yet another fight.

"…_Did_ I or did I _not_ tell you to go straight to _bed_ and that you wouldn't be working out this morning?" Bruce's angry voice drifted down the hall.

"You did, but—"

"Then _why_ are you _down_ here?"

"Because I'm _always _down here at this time, and you know that I've always had trouble on pommel horse—"

"That doesn't excuse you from disobeying a direct order!"

"Well maybe if you'd let me finish a sentence every once in a while I could explain!"

"So explain!"

"Forget it!"

Alfred had just arrived at the gym door when Dick strode briskly past him, not noticing his presence.

Meanwhile, Bruce was exiting the gym through another door, muttering to himself, "I don't know what's gotten _into_ that boy lately…!"

"So much for keeping an eye on things," Alfred sighed to himself.

* * *

**Okay, people, there's your weekly dose. Enjoy! Me, I gotta get the replies in order...**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**caltha-**We'll find out part of the reasons why much, much later (it's a long story, refused to end...). And other people will begin to notice in future chapters as well, so don't worry!

**JLAfan-**Ooh, spooky coincidence! LOL :)

**ShockMePeter-**(cough) Well... it's a good thing I'm not dealing with that problem in this story, then, isn't it?

**CrazyInsomaniac-**Yeah, denial. That's Bruce all over. And awww, Wally isn't a dumbo! He's just a little... slow... sometimes... although this time positions seem to be reversed...

**Boleyn-**I honestly don't know Dick's fate at this point. Death is one of the options (I wrote two endings), but I may or may not use it. We'll just have to wait and see!

**kokomocalifornia-**Really? Good, I'm on the right track! And personally, I think Dick is already _in_ trouble... but they'll be more later, rest assured.

**BatThing-**Yes! You take Alfred, I'll take Dick. Hee hee... yeah, Wally is kinda cute. I think he's my favorite sidekick--next to our Boy Wonder, of course!

**SparklesPlenty-**On imdb, it says Karen Carpenter died of 'heart failure caused by chronic anorexia', so maybe you say both? If you want to hit anybody for their blindness, feel free. That goes for everybody else, too. ;-)

**kuramagal-**Some people can be so touchy. Luckily I'm not one of them (unless you flame me, then I'll get mad). Thanks again for the help!

**State of Matter-**Green Arrow's a moron. Besides, he doesn't quite realize how wrong things are; he just knows Robin was throwing up, but he doesn't know that he forced himself to.

**Kanny-**Wow. Really? Thanks! I thought it was a bit on the dull side, but I guess not... maybe that's just because I've reread it half a dozen times to get it right :-P

**batfan7-**That was the highest compliment anyone could possibly pay me. Thank you very much! And don't worry, Clark will get into the action more soon...

**Minx2-**Dick's school life will be mentioned once more in either the next chapter or the one after it, but we don't really focus on that here. And yes, it's hard to imagine poor Robby being unpopular :(


	12. Cracking Under Pressure

**The two references from last chapter were:**

**_Amanda Grayson_, which is also the name of Spock's human mother from the _Star Trek_ TV show/films. That one was just too easy to put in...**

**_Dr. Clayton Harris_, who I unofficially borrowed from two early episodes of _Petticoat Junction _(does anybody remember this?). The reason I stole him is because he was played by Adam West before his now-famous role as Batman. Hee hee... **

**(cough) Okay, enough of that. I'll try not to put in any more stupid references. Oh, wait, there's another reference in this chapter. I stole the name of Dick's high school from the sixties series. I think that's it...**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Eleven: Cracking Under Pressure

Breakfast was eaten in complete silence, except for the occasional sound of silverware striking china. The silence was mostly caused by Dick's absence, though Alfred suspected that there probably wouldn't have been much conversation between the two anyway.

"He hasn't said anything to you, has he?" Bruce finally spoke.

"He who, Master Bruce?" Alfred queried, although he already knew the answer.

"Dick. He hasn't said what's bothering him, has he?"

"Not a word, I'm afraid."

Bruce sighed.

"I just can't figure that boy out sometimes."

"Might I say, sir, that Master Dick says the same thing about _you_?"

"Does he?"

"Often."

A door slammed from somewhere else in the manor. Bruce got up from his chair and strode up to the dining room doorway, hoping to catch Dick before he could escape.

Dick's thin frame appeared on the stairwell. He was busy putting on his watch and didn't notice the pair of eyes watching his descent. When he eventually glanced up and saw Bruce standing there, Dick stopped in his tracks. After a moment, he glared at his mentor, readjusted his backpack so it sat more comfortably on his shoulder, and headed for the front door.

Bruce followed. He had no intention of letting the kid ride his bike to school again—it wasn't even a motorbike, for heaven's sake. And then there was the fact that Dick hadn't eaten breakfast yet.

"Taking your bike to school again, I presume," Bruce observed.

"I'm not _talking_ to you," Dick growled back.

"Then just listen."

"I knew you were going to say that."

_"You talked"_ were the first words that came to Bruce's mind, but he knew that provoking Dick would do nothing to help him in this situation.

Finally, upon seeing that Bruce wasn't about to leave him alone anytime soon, Dick sighed loudly and grumbled, "Alright, _fine_. What do you want?"

"I want to know what's wrong with you—and don't tell me it's nothing."

"Okay. I won't."

The boy turned to leave, but couldn't make it out the door before Bruce grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

"You realize, of course, that you're showing symptoms of anorexia?"

"_What?!_" Dick exploded. "You think _I'm_…?!"

"Maybe not yet, but you're definitely headed in that direction and I intend to stop this before it goes any farther."

"Oh, come _on!_ I know you're a bit on the paranoid side, Bruce, but this is absolutely absurd!"

"That'll be enough out of you, Richard," Bruce ground out, his voice dangerously low.

"Well, that's fine with me!" Dick shot back. "Because I don't have anything left to say! Now would you mind letting go of me? I'm going to be late for school."

Bruce, as much as he hated to do it, released the boy's arm and watched him go. He had intended to force him into eating breakfast and then drive him to school. And at first, it had seemed as if forcing him to do these things would solve the problem, show him that what he was doing was harmful and that he should stop.

But it hadn't. If anything, Dick was worse than ever.

But why? Was this the boy's way of attracting attention, of making people notice him? If so, it was working. _Everybody _was noticing Dick Grayson now.

For all the wrong reasons.

They said he was irritable.

Exhausted.

Depressed.

_Underweight_.

And everybody was turning to Bruce Wayne to answer the questions that Dick's behavior presented—answers he didn't have. No, he wasn't sure if Dick was anorexic. That had just been a shot in the dark, and he had probably missed the target completely. After all, Batman had taught the boy well. Dick knew that starving yourself wouldn't make the problems go away.

Dick was much too sensible for that.

---

The school day had not gone well for Dick, just as it hadn't gone well for every other school day he'd ever suffered through. Aside from the usual taunts, he'd had a chemistry exam that he'd forgotten to study for. Dick knew he had probably failed and that Bruce would kill him if he had. The only consolation was that the kid behind him had been copying off his test and probably gotten just as bad a mark.

Then, of course, his English teacher had caught him daydreaming during her boring old lecture on Dickens and threatened detention. And lunch, well… _that_ one was self-explanatory.

So it was a very foul-tempered Dick Grayson who arrived in gym class that day. Especially since they were doing basketball that day—certainly _not_ the young aerialist's best sport.

_What's the importance of learning **basketball**, anyway?!_ Dick thought hotly. _And what bonehead thought it was such a brilliant idea to put gym class right after lunch, for crying out loud? Although, if I exercise hard enough, maybe I can honestly say I feel sick and—_

"Looks like you're having a bit of a problem there, eh, Grayson?"

"Look, Carter, I'm _not_ in the mood to take your moronic insults just because you're feeling insecure."

The bigger boy laughed, finding Dick's irritation amusing. Wayne's ward didn't usually respond to his insults, but apparently, today was Carter's lucky day.

"Me? Insecure? Never!"

"Shut up, jerk!"

The smile vanished from Carter's face, and he reached over to give Dick a shove.

"You're telling _me_ to shut up?" he sneered. "You weren't _really_ talking to _me,_ were you, half-breed?"

Dick shot him a dark look, his grip tightening around the orange ball in his hands.

"_Say that again_."

"What's the matter, half-breed? Can't you hear?" Carter laughed, clearly enjoying himself.

By this time, several other people in the gym—including the teacher—had noticed that something odd was going on between the two boys. But Dick didn't notice this as he whispered in a deadly tone, "Okay, Carter, you asked for it."

The first thing Dick did was to throw the ball at Carter as a distraction. The other boy turned his head away and held up his hands to catch the ball, completely ignorant of Dick's tackle until it was too late.

Several of the other students cried out in surprise or excitement and quickly formed a small circle around the boys. Everyone was calling out for their favorite to win like they would at a basketball game. The teacher was not nearly as enthused and was busily trying to fight his way through the small crowd of students that had gathered to watch.

Meanwhile, Dick had managed to keep his opponent on the ground and give him several bruises as well as a bloody nose.

But he was beginning to tire.

Carter, sensing Dick's fatigue, rolled him over and caught the smaller boy in a strangle hold. Dick, mindful of his training, used the heel of his palm to push up on Carter's chin, forcing his head back painfully. The maneuver was meant to force Carter into loosening his grip, and it worked.

Unfortunately, Carter had spotted something out of the corner of his eye during their short stand-off, something that would prove to be Dick's ultimate undoing. Something that Dick _could_ have used to his own advantage.

Several loose bricks were sitting against the wall right next to them.

And so, the second he loosened his grip around Dick's neck, Carter reached over, picked up a brick, and smashed it against Dick's ribs.

---

One-thirty. Alfred was dusting the study when the phone began to ring. As usual, he immediately went over to the device and picked it up. But he didn't like what he heard.

"Wayne residence."

"Yes, hello. Is Mr. Wayne at home? This is Principal Stevens from Woodrow Roosevelt High School."

Dick's school? What did they want?

"I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Wayne is not at home at the moment. Shall I take a message?"

"Well…"

The man seemed hesitant to disclose what the problem was. Alfred, becoming worried, promptly asked, "There isn't anything wrong with Master Dick, is there?"

"I'm afraid so," the principal explained. "You see, Richard started a fight at school today."

Taken aback, Alfred managed, "Are you sure you're referring to _our_ Richard? Richard _Grayson?_"

"Yes, that's him. Apparently, a boy in his phys. ed. class made some rather… unsavory remarks towards him. Richard got in several good blows before the other boy caught him in the ribs with a brick."

"My word!"

"We're doing some repairs in the gymnasium and the workers left some of their materials behind. So this boy just picked up a brick and…" Stevens let his voice trail off there and began again, "Needless to say, there was a good bit of damage done to Richard's ribcage."

"How _much _damage?" Alfred questioned, fearing the results.

"The nurse said several of the ribs were cracked, and at least one was broken. We're going to send him to the hospital for a complete examination and proper treatment, with Mr. Wayne's permission. While our own nurse is well-equipped to handle minor injuries, she's never had to deal with broken bones before…"

"Sir, I assure you, Mr. Wayne would certainly approve of your sending the lad to the hospital under these conditions!"

Stevens hesitated.

"I'm sure he would, but it _is _standard procedure to get the permission of the parent or guardian _before_ sending the child to the hospital. Just to make sure."

Oh for heaven's sake. How could this man be so strict? If Master Dick had indeed broken a rib, he must be in considerable pain, and now he had to wait for permission to get treatment? Absurd!

"In that case, I shall call him immediately and have him call you back," Alfred said rather stiffly.

"Thank you."

As soon as Stevens hung up, Alfred took a deep breath to calm himself. The poor young master, broken ribs and all… but what in the world could that boy have said to provoke Master Dick into starting a fight?

Well there would be time to figure that out later. Right now, Master Bruce must be informed, no matter how unpleasant that would be.

---

The Wayne limousine turned into a parking space at Gotham General Hospital and slowed to a stop. The door opened and Alfred stepped out. After quickly scanning the parking lot, he noticed the Ferrari that Bruce had taken to work that day and nodded. He had figured that Bruce would be there. And he was probably wondering the same thing that his butler was—

Why had Dick started that fight?

Something told Alfred that Dick would be very unwilling to answer that question, and he was right.

"He said something rotten and I got mad, that's all," were the boy's exact words.

"That's not an answer," Bruce replied, slightly irritated.

"It's the answer _you'd_ give _me_ if positions were reversed," Dick retorted.

"That will be quite enough out of you two."

Bruce and Dick glanced up in surprise as Dr. Leslie Thompkins walked into the room. Alfred was the only one who didn't appear confused, since he was the one who had called her in. Leslie was the family's long-time physician and always insisted upon at least examining all their ailments personally.

"Alright, Dickie, what have you done now?" the middle-aged woman sighed.

"'S'just a broken rib," Dick mumbled, shrugging slightly. Alfred frowned at the show of bad manners, but Dick didn't see it as his eyes were directed at the floor.

"_Just _a broken rib, now, is it? Unbutton your shirt and let's take a look, then."

"Do I really have to?" Dick asked, his voice faint.

"Come on now, this won't hurt a bit. I promise," Leslie reassured him. She didn't let it show, but secretly, she was rather concerned by Dick's behavior. He'd been injured dozens of times and had never been too shy about taking off his shirt in front of her.

_He's just growing up, I suppose, _Leslie told herself. _Developing 'modesty' or something else to that effect that's equally ridiculous. Probably figures undressing in front of a lady isn't proper, even if that lady has been his doctor for six years. Next thing I know he'll be wanting to see a male doctor…_

Dick sighed a little bit and began to undo his shirt anyway, revealing the bandage underneath. But where he saw fat, his elders saw bone.

Quickly flushing red, Dick snapped, "Would you all quit staring already?"

"Dick…" Leslie started slowly. "What have you been eating lately?"

Dick pulled the loose ends of his shirt back together and said nothing, so Bruce supplied, "Not enough, obviously."

"I wasn't talking to you. Well, Dick?"

"I eat enough," Dick replied to his guardian's statement, completely ignoring Leslie. "How do you think I was able to give Jeff Carter that bloody nose earlier?"

"Master Richard!" Alfred gasped in horror.

"What? It's not like the creep didn't deserve it. He was… well, he deserved it!"

"That may be true, Dick, but going around giving people bloody noses just isn't like you. Did you have a bad day at school? Did something happen at home you want to talk about?" asked Leslie.

Dick glowered at the floor. He _wanted _to tell them. He wanted to tell them all about what Carter had said about him. He needed to tell someone about his feelings so badly…

But he couldn't. What would be the point? They didn't care about what he was feeling anyway, so telling them would just be a big fat waste of time.

The only one who's fat around here is you, Grayson… look at everyone else… they're all handsome, attractive people… smart, intelligent… _thin_… and then look at you… look at them, all staring at you… _all _of you…

"Would you all just quit _staring_ at me? I don't want you staring at me!"

"Dick, it's alright, there's no need to get excited," Leslie reassured him. She couldn't help but think that Dick was acting like he'd hit his head instead of his ribs. "We're not trying to stare. We're just worried about you."

"What for?"

"_What_ did you just say?" Bruce asked, incredulity evident in his tone.

"I said what for!" repeated Dick in a much louder voice. "We all know I'm not worth this worry, so why don't we just stop pretending and be honest for once, okay?!"

Leslie and Alfred just stared.

_He **must** have hit his head…_ she thought.

Bruce was the only one who wasn't at a loss for words.

"Dick, you made a few bad choices at school today, but that hardly means you're not worth worrying over," he said. "What in the world put that idea into your head?"

They're lying… they're lying, you KNOW they're lying…

"Nothing," Dick finally said. "I just failed my chemistry exam today, that's all."

"No, you didn't. I stopped by the school just before coming here to find out exactly what happened," Bruce explained. "I knew you'd probably be staying at home for a while so I picked up your schoolwork for the next week or so. Your chemistry test was in there."

"I… passed?"

"Not by much, but you passed. The same thing goes for all the other tests you've taken this week. You're just managing to scrape by."

"Bruce, I hardly think that now is the time…" Leslie hinted.

"It's okay," Dick said, his voice full of contempt. "I'm used to this kind of thing. Can we go home now?"

Bruce looked at Leslie. At her nod, he helped his ward off the examination table and led him out the door. Alfred stayed behind to talk with the now confused Dr. Thompkins.

"What was all_ that_ about?" she wondered aloud.

"I wish I knew," sighed Alfred.

"How long has he been acting like that… and since when did Bruce put him on such a strict diet? I thought he knew better. He could get arrested for child abuse for that."

"This isn't Mr. Wayne's doing. Master Dick seems to have become extremely particular in what he will eat and what he will _refuse_ to eat," Alfred told her. "In fact, Master Bruce has been trying to force the lad into eating. As you can see, that hasn't done any good."

"Hmm," Leslie muttered thoughtfully. "Keep an eye on him for me, will you, Alfred? I'll be out there in a couple of days anyway, but please let me know if anything changes before then."

"Anything you say, Dr. Thompkins. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm needed at home. Good-bye."

"Good-bye…"

---

That evening, Kid Flash was sitting at the computer in the Tower, playing Solitaire and listening to Beast Boy and Cyborg's video game in the background. Okay, so he should have been trying to locate Robin like Wonder Girl had told him to. But really, he was _Robin_—if he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be found. Besides, he'd only missed one case. It wasn't like he'd been missing for three weeks…

The computer beeped, indicating that he'd received an e-mail. He clicked on the little letter icon and smiled broadly when he saw who it was from.

"Hey, guys! Rob just e-mailed!"

"What does he say?" Wonder Girl inquired, walking over.

Kid Flash opened the e-mail and read aloud:

"'Hey, people. Just heard how you took down Brother Blood—congrats on that. Sorry I couldn't be there. I'm stuck at home with a broken rib for at least two weeks. Until then, Wonder Girl is in charge. Feel free to call me if you have any problems. But if anybody acts out of line, WG, just kick them between the legs. Hard. —R'"

"Broken rib? Ouch," Beast Boy remarked. "I wonder what—hey! That was so not fair, Cy, I was distracted! I want a do-over!"

"Not a chance, little man! Those points were scored fair and square!"

"No way!"

"Yes way!"

"Ah-hem!" Kid Flash cleared his throat loudly. "Do I have to re-read the part about getting kicked between the legs?"

"Uh, no thanks, Fleetfeet. We heard it the first time," replied Cyborg.

"I wonder what happened? To Robin, I mean," Wonder Girl put in. "I wonder how he broke his rib…"

"I'll e-mail back and ask him," Kid Flash offered. "Gee, I sure hope he'll be up and around in time for his birthday…"

The next day, he received the following reply:

_Hey, KF. Got your e-mail. Yes, I'll be spending my birthday in bed. No, I'm not throwing a party. And mind your own business. —R_

* * *

**If I'm making the teachers/school faculty seem like villains, I apologize and I hope I haven't offended anyone. I really don't know what the procedure would be if a student broke something, so I made it up. I know teachers aren't really evil (well, some are, but you could apply that to any profession). Also, if anybody cares to hit Bruce, feel free. XD**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**kokomocalifornia-**I'll see what I can do about making longer chapters. And as for Bruce, well, he's getting there...

**ShockMePeter-**Hey, I said 'considering'! It hasn't happened yet! LOL, but I can't really be mad at you either, you loyal reviewer you... :)

**JLAfan-**Sure, be happy to. If you don't hear from me, then you'll know that Dick lives. If you do, well... don't worry, the odds say Dickie will survive this experience.

**Lil' Kanny-**Oh, lots of stuff is gonna happen to Dick. Like you just saw. And like I wrote in "Prologue", there will be a suicide attempt later on (hint, hint).

**The BatThing-**E-mails stink sometimes, especially when you never get anything. Anyway, you're very welcome for new chapters. I loved writing this!!

**Boleyn-**Can and does, poor guy. I probably won't kill him, though I did like it when he got kidnapped on the sixties series. (evil grin)

**kuramagal-**Oooh, Bruce was so close! I guess it's just hard for him to accept that his own kid has an eating disorder. I'll show him... grr...

**caltha-**We find out part of the reason why later. And the Voices are just there to characterize the eating disorders. (kicks Voices) Get outta here! LOL.

**vrybug-**You're more than welcome. I know what you mean about the updating--there's a lot of stories I've been waiting for _years _for an update, so I try not to do that.

**SarahC4321-**Well, not totally clueless. As for Kid Flash's investigating, I think he's partially in denial at the moment. Dick is his best friend, after all.

**Nightwing Gurl-**No need to beg; here I am! Great to hear that someone else out there is enjoying my little story.

**CrazyInsomaniac-**A smart Wally? I don't think the world is ready for that... ha, ha. I'm kidding. And it's lucky for Dick that Wally _is_ that smart... you'll see why later... hee...


	13. Questions and Answers

**I managed to make a nice long chapter for you people. It's about twice as long as a normal chapter, so get yourselves settled in! This might take a while!**

**On an unrelated note, have you ever noticed that all superheroes seem to have perfectly straight, white teeth? I don't think they even have 'orthodontist' in their vocabularies. I may have to do something about that someday. To Dick, of course. XD**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Twelve: Questions and Answers

Like Dick had told the Titans, he was laid up for a while. As far as anyone knew, he spent that time reading, studying, and recuperating, all very calmly.

What they didn't know was what happened at midnight. Dick never told anybody what he did then.

He never told anybody about how he would sneak over to the Titans' Tower, lock the gym doors and practice for hours on end, alone in the dark.

No-one ever knew how he would often collapse onto the floor, sobbing in pain and gripping his sides as they throbbed mercilessly from the excessive pressure Dick was putting on them.

He couldn't let a couple of injured ribs stop him in his mission.

He was going to lose that extra weight, make Bruce proud of him… or he'd die trying.

He deserved to die, anyway. It didn't matter to him. He had gotten used to the idea of death years ago back when his parents had been murdered. Back when he'd been loved and wanted.

The good news was that Bruce eased up in his scrutiny of Dick's diet during that time. And Dick could always say it was the soreness of his ribs or the painkillers that spoiled his appetite. So he got away with eating very little.

Nobody asked why it took his ribs twice as long as to heal.

Well, they asked, but Dick never gave them a straight answer.

But, finally, the three weeks ended. The bandages were removed and Dick was relieved to find that his frequent work-outs no longer went hand in hand with the pain.

Most of the time.

Dick closed his eyes as sweat poured down his face. He'd never been so sore in his life and his abs felt like they were on fire, but he couldn't stop now, he just _couldn't_. Just a few more…

There. Five hundred sit-ups.

He didn't even bother to get up after completing the exercises. He just laid back onto the mat, breathing hard and knowing that his face was flushed deep, deep red.

Five hundred.

He'd finally hit five hundred.

…Five hundred?! That's _all? _You're kidding, right? Look at the rotten shape you're in… you'll need to do better than a measly five hundred if you want to lose weight…

_Hey, **you're** the one who pushed for five hundred, remember? What do you want from me **now**?_

…You are _such_ a wimp, Grayson…

That was when Dick realized he'd have to go one better.

"Tomorrow…" he vowed, "I go for a thousand…"

"Did you say something, Dick?"

The boy opened his eyes and stared up at his mentor. From Dick's vantage point, Bruce's face appeared to be upside-down, and Dick couldn't help but grin a little.

"Uh-uh," he panted with a small headshake. "I… didn't say nothin'…"

Bruce grimaced.

"Your English is horrible. Don't let Alfred hear you."

Dick's grin just got wider. He closed his eyes again, still breathing hard. The next thing he knew, something cool and wet tapped his face. Dick soon discovered that Bruce was offering him one of the water bottles he'd brought from upstairs. With trembling fingers, Dick reached up to accept it.

"…Thanks."

"What have you been doing? You look exhausted," Bruce observed. He sat down in a nearby chair and watched the boy attempt to sit up.

It took him a few moments, but Dick finally managed to get his throbbing muscles to obey his commands.

"Just been exercising, is all."

"Are you sure you're up to doing sit-ups, chum? You just got the bandage off…"

"…Fine…"

Dick's arm still shook violently as he raised the bottle to his lips. Bruce arched an eyebrow at that. Dick had been known to push a little too hard while working out, but he'd been taught to never overexert himself in this manner.

"Hey, Bruce?" Dick's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Mm?"

"How many calories are there in a glass of orange juice?"

"What?"

"_How many calories—_"

"I heard you the first time," said Bruce, holding up a hand. "One hundred ten."

"Oh… how about milk? How many calories does that have?"

"Ninety."

"Oh…"

Bruce examined the pensive expression on his ward's face and finally asked, "Is there a point to all of this, Dick?"

Dick seemed to think for a minute. Then he looked Bruce straight in the eye and asked in a very soft voice, "Do you think I'm fat?"

Bruce almost choked on the water he'd been drinking and just barely managed to swallow what was in his mouth before turning to face Dick, who was patiently waiting for an answer.

"What the hell kind of a question is _that?!_" he demanded incredulously. Dick probably would have jumped in surprise if he'd had the energy left to do so.

"It was just a question," Dick replied, a bit defensively.

"You're not serious."

"'Course I'm serious! Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well if you _must_ know… no. I don't. Because you're _not_. Now would you mind explaining what brought this whole thing on and why you'd ask such a stupid question in the first place?"

"Oh, so now you think I'm stupid?"

This time, the look on Bruce's face was one of pure annoyance.

"I didn't say that."

"But you said the _question_ was stupid, and I _thought_ of the question, therefore you must think_ I'm_ stupid."

"What kind of logic is that?"

"There! There, you see? You _do_ think I'm stupid! You just said so!"

"I never said anything of the kind."

"You might as well have!"

Bruce stood up and headed toward the stairs, muttering to himself about how he refused to continue such an unreasonable conversation.

"Well that's just fine with me!" Dick huffed. Somehow, he managed to drag himself to his feet and lock himself in the changing room, a sure sign that he was upset.

Bruce fought the urge to roll his eyes as he headed upstairs.

---

Alfred listened patiently as Bruce explained—or rather, complained about—what had just occurred 'downstairs'.

"…Here he's been _losing _weight and out of the blue, he asks me if I think he's _fat_. I expect Bruce Wayne's girlfriends to ask ridiculous questions like those, not Dick."

"Well it obviously wasn't ridiculous to Master Dick, and I am sure he did not appreciate your insulting his intelligence in that manner," Alfred replied calmly.

"I _didn't_ insult his intelligence. You sound like you're on his side rather than on mine. Surely you don't agree with him, Alfred?"

"Of course not," the older man scoffed. "But regardless of whether the question is 'ridiculous' or not, it made a lot of sense to the boy and perhaps it would have been better to try and figure out _why_ it made sense to him, rather than simply saying you thought it was 'ridiculous'."

Bruce sighed in what sounded like resignation.

"Alright, I see your point," he grudgingly admitted, making Alfred smile slightly. "I'll try to talk to him about it next time I see him." Pause. "What are you working on? You've been sewing on that thing ever since I… is that Robin's vest?"

"Yes it is," the butler confirmed. He held up the piece of brilliant red fabric to reveal the yellow stitching on the front.

"What are you doing to it?"

"Taking it in. It's much too big for him now."

Bruce just stared.

---

One evening, about a fortnight later, Batman and Robin were sitting opposite each other in the Cave. They would be going out on patrol shortly, but first, Batman was going to quiz Robin on the periodic table of elements. Dick's science grades had finally hit rock-bottom, so now Bruce had decided to quiz him on basic chemistry skills to see where the problem was.

"Alright, Dick, list all of the elements in the order they appear on the chart."

"I still don't see why I have to do this…"

"Because I need to see if you can. Now _do it_."

Dick rolled his eyes. He shouldn't have to do this; it was too easy. He'd known the periodic chart by heart since he was nine, thanks to Batman's intensive tutelage. He didn't need to do this.

He'd show Batman. He was just as smart as he ever was.

"Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen… um… fluorine… um…''

Much to Dick's horror, that was where his memory began to fade. When was the last time he had studied the periodic table anyway? Last month? He couldn't remember. No, it was last night. At about… midnight? Maybe one? Well, sometime after his extended three-hour work out at the Tower, anyway.

Upon seeing that his partner was stuck, Bruce prompted, "Neon."

"_Neon_…"

Dick hissed in frustration and put a hand to his forehead, trying desperately to concentrate.

"Neon… uh… Krypton?"

"Very funny."

"Argon?"

"No. You're guessing."

"Of _course_ I'm guessing! I don't—"

"After neon is sodium. What's next?"

"I don't know…" Dick breathed, suddenly feeling exhausted.

"Magnesium. What's next?" Bruce pushed on relentlessly.

"I don't know…"

"Yes you do. What's next?"

"I don't know, okay?! I don't know!" the boy yelled. He buried his fingers in his hair and tightened his hands into fists, furious with himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

"Take it easy," said Bruce, his voice a tone softer. "Just try to relax and tell me… what comes after magnesium?"

"I don't _know,_" Dick grumped. He didn't look up to see his mentor's features harden once again.

"How long has it been since you studied this, Dick?"

"I don't know."

"How long has it been since you studied _anything?_ Do you know _that?_"

Dick glowered at him. He knew he was stupid, and he didn't need Bruce to remind him of the fact!

"I said I don't _know_," he ground out again.

"_Why?_"

"I've been _busy_."

"Then we'll just have to cut back on something, won't we? Like the Titans?"

"Not a chance!" the boy objected in an uncharacteristically loud voice. "You can cut anything you want except exercising and the Titans!"

"Alright then. No patrol tonight."

Dick stared. Something told him that his plan had just backfired.

Bruce ignored the look on Dick's face and continued, "You will stay home and review this and anything else you feel you've been having trouble with. Then straight to bed. You look like you could use some extra sleep anyway."

"What's _that _supposed to mean?"

"It means study your chemistry and go to bed early."

"Yes, sir," Dick mumbled dejectedly. He slouched a little in his seat and watched Bruce head for the changing rooms to get into costume. Then he watched him climb into the Batmobile and start the car.

"Batman!"

The Dark Knight looked up as Dick called to him.

"I…" Licking his lips and swallowing hard, Dick finally whispered, "I'm sorry."

Batman nodded and left. Dick bowed his head, somewhat disappointed by the lack of response he'd gotten from his senior partner although, deep down, he knew he didn't deserve a full answer.

Why was he always bowing and scraping before this man, anyway? He didn't need to, in fact, he shouldn't even have to. He was Batman's partner, not his slave.

But it was what Batman expected. So Dick gave it to him as best he could.

With a sigh, Dick dragged himself to his feet and headed back upstairs.

It was going to be a long night.

---

Very early the next morning, Batman returned to the Cave and removed his cowl, revealing Bruce Wayne's tired face beneath it. He'd spent the entire patrol chasing Penguin throughout the city on what had often seemed to be a wild goose chase.

_Penguins and geese? That sounds like something Robin would say,_ Batman observed as he grimaced. Robin may tell lousy jokes, but even he had to admit that the boy's help would have been very welcome that night.

No matter. Penguin was back in prison where he belonged. That was all that mattered.

Bruce changed quickly and headed upstairs. He would have no time for sleep today—he had to review a few reports from Wayne Enterprises and then be at the office in time for some stupid business meeting.

With a sigh, he opened the hidden door to the study. He stopped in the doorway, surprised by what he saw.

Dick lay on his stomach on the couch. One arm dangled down, touching the floor, while the other was curled up under his head. He was lying on top of his chemistry book.

"Not again," Bruce muttered, shaking his head. This was the second time in a month Dick had fallen asleep while doing his homework. He was either not getting enough sleep or studying way too much. Maybe both.

In any case, something had to go.

Bruce glanced up at the clock on the mantle of the fireplace. Three o'clock it said.

Well, Dick would be getting up in a couple of hours anyway. He'd have a talk with the boy then.

---

Four hours passed. As far as Bruce knew, Dick was still sound asleep in the study. When he went to check on the boy, he discovered that Dick was in the exact same position he'd been in when Batman had first come home.

Dick _never_ slept in. But here it was, almost seven, and he hadn't stirred.

Crouching down beside Dick, Bruce gave his shoulder a little shake. He noted that Dick seemed to be a bit thinner than he had been the last time he'd touched the boy's shoulder… and when had that been? Several months at least… he couldn't remember. He had never been big on making a lot of physical contact for affectionate purposes.

"Hey… c'mon, Dick, time to get up…"

Dick groaned a bit and buried his face in his forearm. When Bruce shook him a little harder, Dick went so far as to give Bruce's arm a smack. He undoubtedly had no idea who was trying to arouse him and didn't much care to find out.

"Alright, that's it…" Bruce muttered. With one swift move, he tossed Dick off the sofa and into an inelegant heap on the floor. Dick let out a funny yell as he was abruptly woken up.

"What…?!"

"Good morning."

"I'll be the judge of that. What the heck was that for, anyway—ow…"

"You okay?"

"My arm's just asleep, that's all… and I wish _I_ were still asleep, too, thank you," Dick hinted, glowering up at his guardian. Rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn, Dick managed, "What time is it, anyway?"

"Never mind about that now. It's not a school day. Besides, I want to know why you're so tired lately."

Panic rising in his chest, Dick concluded, "It's late, isn't it? How late?"

"Dick—"

"Bruce, please, _tell me!_"

"What do you care about what time it is? It's Saturday."

"What _time_ Saturday?" Dick stubbornly insisted. "It's past five, isn't it? I _knew_ I should have set the alarm clock! I _knew_ I'd miss my morning work-out!"

"Dick, it's alright. You've been exercising a little too much lately anyway."

"But Bruce, _I missed my morning work-out._"

"I _heard you the first time,_" Bruce told him. Why was the boy acting this way, he wondered? "I just don't understand what is so important about your morning work-out to get you this upset."

"You're right," Dick replied, glaring steadily. "You _don't_ understand."

He didn't even bother waiting for Bruce to ask what he meant by that; Dick just leapt up off the floor and sprinted for the door. He nearly made it before he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. Turning to the window to see what it was, Dick let out a surprised, "The Bat-signal!"

Bruce looked at the window as well. Sure enough, there it was, just barely visible against the ever-brightening morning sky.

Bruce was momentarily torn. He knew he needed to have this discussion with his ward… but duty called.

"Go eat breakfast. I'll be back as soon as I found out what this is about."

"But I want to come with you," Dick said.

"Sorry, chum, not this time."

Dick sighed unhappily and headed for the door. He slowly made his way to the kitchen, intending to tell Alfred that he'd be skipping breakfast because he had made plans to have doughnuts at the Tower with Roy and Donna, or some such lie. He was getting very good at lying…

But when he got to the kitchen, he found a plate of Belgian waffles and a glass of milk waiting for him. There was a small note tucked under the glass. Dick read:

**_Master Dick,_**

**_I'll be out shopping for the morning – one of my cousins has a birthday very soon so I've gone searching for a present for her. As you can see, I have taken the liberty of preparing breakfast for you. Eat what you want of it. You needn't finish all of it if it is too much for you. I shall be back before lunch._**

**_Please try not to work too hard._**

**_Alfred_**

**_P.S. If you happen to have any idea of what seventeen-year-old girls are "into" these days, please give me a ring._**

Dick smirked at the irony of that line—'eat what you want'. Ha. Somehow, he doubted that Alfred was giving him permission to just leave the food sitting there on the table.

And then, of course, there was the 'please not to work too hard' bit. Unless Dick was sorely mistaken, that meant 'don't go into the gym or else'. Geez, what was it going to take to get _through_ to these people? They just didn't understand… what a shock, right? Nobody understands… nobody cares… you're all alone…

_I hate being alone…_

Well, if Alfred didn't want him in the gym, then he'd head over to the Tower and do a little exercise there.

But first… what the heck was he supposed to do about breakfast? He'd feed it to the dog, but they didn't _have _a dog, although Dick had been trying to sell Bruce on the idea for at least five years now. And if those waffles sat there for one second longer, Dick was going to lose control and eat it all in less than five minutes.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd lost it.

As if answering his prayers, Gar Logan trotted into the kitchen.

"What was up with the Bat-dude?" the green-skinned boy asked, jerking his thumb behind him. "He practically knocked me over in his hurry to get out. Oh, and Wally was wondering if you wanna spar with him at the Tower for a bit. He's bored. And he wants to see if he can kick _your_ butt for once instead of the other way around. I said no way, but he didn't listen."

Well, if they didn't have a dog, Beast Boy was the next best thing, Dick supposed. I mean, at least he was a dog _sometimes_, right?

"The Commissioner called him, sure thing, and you're right, it ain't happenin'," Dick replied with a cheerfulness he didn't feel. Why couldn't he just be happy, he wondered? Why couldn't he just be _normal?_ But most of all, he just wanted to quit putting on a happy face for everyone and cry his eyes out. "But first, you want waffles? Alfred made extra."

---

Gordon stood at the edge of the police building's flat roof, waiting for his mysterious friend to arrive. He was already beginning to regret turning on the signal in the first place. Batman had told him that it was to be used _exclusively _in case of an emergency, and this wasn't… well, it wasn't _exactly_ an emergency. It was just some stupid concern of his. Hopefully Batman wouldn't mind.

"Commissioner."

Gordon jumped slightly and whipped around at the deep voice that came from behind. Even in the retreating shadows of early morning, the Batman remained well-hidden.

_Speaking of the devil… and how does he **do** that?_

"You wanted something?"

_Here goes…_

"Yes, but it's not quite what you're thinking," Gordon said. "I wanted to talk to you… about Robin."

The Dark Knight remained silent.

"I'm sorry I had to use the signal. It was the only way I could contact you."

Batman fixed the Commissioner with an icy stare and ground out, "And _what,_ exactly, is it about Robin that you wanted to talk about?"

"It's his weight, actually. He seems to have lost a few pounds recently. Maybe it's just me, but he's beginning to look a little… sick. I hope he hasn't been ill?"

"No. Just stubborn," he muttered.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing, Commissioner. Thank you for your concern, but it really isn't necessary. Robin's fine."

"Well… I suppose you know him best. Tell him I said hello, will you?" Gordon reluctantly wrapped up the conversation. He thought he saw the grim figure nod before disappearing once again.

---

Robin gasped and nearly fell as he barely managed to avoid a knock-out punch thrown by Kid Flash. The other Titan didn't seem to notice Robin's distress and laughed, "Ha, ha! Almost gotcha that time, Rob!"

_Man, just look at him,_ Kid Flash thought. _He never had so much trouble sparring me before. He should be wiping the floor with me by now… now, he looks like he's struggling just to stand up._

Finally, ten minutes later, Kid Flash had flipped Robin and was standing over him, grinning triumphantly.

"I hate to brag, Batboy… but it looks like you just got your butt kicked."

With a growl, Robin curled up his legs and kicked Kid Flash in the stomach, sending him flying backwards. Before he even hit the floor, Robin was back on his feet. He pounced on Kid Flash just as the other teen was trying to get to his knees.

"Ack! Hey!" Kid Flash howled as Robin pulled on his arm. "Leggo!"

"_Now _who's butt got kicked, huh?" Robin said.

"Alright, ALRIGHT! Now let go before my arm breaks!"

But Robin seemed frozen in time, sitting there, staring at Kid Flash's arm and at nothing simultaneously. He was remembering another time, just over a month ago, when _he_ had been the one being beaten by a close friend. He and Batman had had a disagreement about Titans business, and Robin had ended up flying across a table. Then, of course, they found out that Superman had been listening. He'd never been so humiliated…

Robin was brought back to reality by the odd, suffocating sensation of Kid Flash vibrating straight through him. Although Kid Flash kept telling himself not to get upset with the Boy Wonder, he couldn't help but glare at the smaller boy in annoyance.

"_Robin,_ what did you think you were _doing?_"

"I… I'm sorry, KF. I should have been paying attention."

"I _might_ forgive you," the speedster said pensively, "if you buy me a pizza!"

"You just had breakfast and you're hungry again?" Robin concluded incredulously. How could anybody eat so much? Even if he _did_ have a high metabolism.

"Yeah! Now do I get the pizza or not? What you were doing to my arm just now really hurt! I think I deserve a pizza for that!"

"I _said_ I was sorry."

Robin nonetheless agreed to Kid Flash's terms. And twenty minutes later, Kid Flash sat happily munching away on a slice of pepperoni pizza. But, even though he was thoroughly enjoying the food, he was mainly doing this to see what Robin's attitude toward the pizza was.

He barely had the chance to find out when Speedy wandered in.

_Oh, great,_ Kid Flash thought. It was almost enough to make him lose his appetite… but not _quite _enough, he realized as he started on his second slice.

"Hey, people—oooh, pizza!!"

"Help yourself," Robin mumbled sarcastically as Speedy proceeded to do just that.

"Thanks, Short Pants. Hey, ain't you gonna have any? Oh, that's right," Speedy plowed on, ignoring the black look Robin was giving him, and said tauntingly, "You're on a _diet._"

Kid Flash almost choked on his pizza.

"Yeah. Stupid, right?" laughed Speedy. "That's what I said."

"I never said I was on a _diet_, Harper. I just said I was cutting back on sweets," Robin ground out in a deadly tone. He knew he was lying, but he wasn't about to give Speedy that satisfaction. "And not that it's any of _your_ business, but I ate breakfast just before I got here."

"Oh, yeah? What'd ya have?" the archer challenged.

"Waffles. Alfred left them on the table for me, and I ate them."

"Yeah, Quiver Breath," Kid Flash jumped in. "He's telling the truth. Beast Boy said that he went over to your place and had waffles. Said something about how there was a whole plate of 'em on the kitchen table. Sitting there like they were waiting for him."

"But…" Speedy started in confusion, "Rob just said that Alfred left the waffles on the table for _him_… how many waffles did the old guy make, anyway?"

"Enough," Robin insisted. "Alfred knew Gar was visiting, so he…"

Robin let his sentence go unfinished, seeing that Kid Flash was slowly shaking his head 'no'.

"Even Alfred couldn't have known about Gar's visit, Rob," the junior speedster announced. "I sent him over to ask you to practice sparring with me. We didn't plan it."

Speedy raised his eyebrows at this rather interesting development. Robin glowered at Kid Flash, his cheeks glowing red.

"Are you calling me a liar?"

Kid Flash swallowed hard and managed, "No. Is there a reason I _should_ be calling you a liar?"

Robin's face turned an even brighter red, and Kid Flash felt chills run down his spine at the cold stare on their leader's face. He quickly averted his gaze to the pizza in his hand and hoped Robin would make his death a quick and painless one.

But Robin did nothing. He just turned and leaned against the wall, focusing his angry gaze at the scenery outside the window instead.

Silence reigned behind him until Speedy polished off his slice, brushed his hands free of crumbs, and stood up.

"I don't get it," he murmured to Robin's back. "First you don't eat, and then you _lie_ about what you don't eat. Not to mention the way you've gone all doom-and-gloom on us all of a sudden. You've always taken yourself way too seriously, Rob, but now… you're just plain not fun to be around… I don't get it."

Speedy left the rec room, shaking his head. Kid Flash watched Robin carefully for any change in his stance or body language. He wasn't sure why or even what he was looking for, but for some reason, it disturbed him when the Boy Wonder failed to react to Speedy's oration.

"Robin… about what I said…" he began uncertainly.

"Forget it. It's fine."

Kid Flash looked on as Robin shifted his belt slightly—probably tightening it. The simple action was finally enough to make him lose his appetite.

"Well… thanks for the pizza, Wonder Boy. Could you put the rest in the fridge for me so I can eat it later? I should really be getting back to Central City about now…"

"Sure."

Kid Flash started to leave but stopped. He had an idea he wanted to try.

Hesitating in the doorway, he turned back to look at Robin one last time. He seemed so… so sad.

"Wonder Boy?" Kid Flash called out.

Robin briefly glanced over his shoulder to show he was listening.

"Thanks for sparring with me."

And then he left, trying to remember the last time he'd heard one of the other Titans give Robin a sincere thank you for something other than saving their lives.

He hated to admit it, but he couldn't remember at all.

He suddenly had the terrible feeling that he'd been taking advantage of his best friend's generosity.

He had just assumed that Robin would always be there.

But now, Robin was leaving them. Gradually, painfully, perhaps even unwillingly… he was leaving them.

---

Robin finally walked away from the window, his eyes filled with unshed tears. The Voices were still in his head, telling him to quit acting like such a baby.

But no matter how many tears he dried, more kept coming. His entire world was suddenly coming unglued, and he just didn't know how to make it right anymore. Speedy's little speech had made him realize what a mess he'd made of things. Sure, the Boy Bowman was a jerk most of the time, but Robin had sort of considered him a friend.

And now Speedy _hated_ him.

Just like everybody else…

And then there was Kid Flash, who had just _thanked_ him for sparring with him. What the heck was 'thank you' supposed to mean? 'Thank you' for letting me beat you? The possibilities were endless, and Robin couldn't think of any good ones.

And that was just from the past five minutes! What about earlier that morning, when Bruce had so eagerly left him behind for a case?

Robin squeezed his eyes shut tight. He tried desperately, unsuccessfully, to will the bad memories away, but they wouldn't go. They kept taunting him, and every time he tried to grab one and suppress it, it would slip from his grasp and become louder than ever, as if laughing at him.

Finally, Robin turned to the five leftover slices of pizza sitting on the table.

_Kid Flash wanted me to save those for him…_

_---_

Early in the afternoon, Kid Flash checked the fridge for the pizza. Beast Boy was with him. The changeling had decided to pick off the pepperoni and have a couple of pizza slices for lunch while practicing video games with Kid Flash.

"Hey, I thought you said there was pizza!" Beast Boy complained upon seeing that his friend had come up empty.

"There _should_ be," Kid Flash replied in genuine confusion. "I asked Robin to save it for me and he said he would…"

"Well then where is it? Hey, I'll bet Cyborg and Speedy finished it while we weren't looking! You wanna come beat 'em up with me?"

"No, you go ahead. I'll wait here."

Beast Boy shrugged and went off in search of the supposed pizza thieves. Kid Flash closed the refrigerator door and leaned against it, deep in thought. There had been five slices of pizza when he left the Tower several hours ago. That probably meant there was more than one culprit, or else they'd be looking for a Titan with a stomachache.

Unless…

_That's it. You're paranoid… but maybe…_

_Oh, no…_

What had he been thinking?! How could he have possibly been stupid enough to leave Robin alone with five slices of pizza? It was the perfect binge food, for heaven's sake! And after what Speedy had said to him, he had to be upset, and who knew how he'd try to cope with these feelings?

Kid Flash was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he almost failed to notice when Beast Boy returned, looking rather confused.

"Dude… that was _so _weird…"

"What was?" asked Kid Flash.

"I just met up with Robin in the hall. He says _he_ ate the pizza."

"He just… came right out and told you?" Kid Flash said in surprise.

"Yeah!" Beast Boy nodded. "And he was like all apologetic and stuff because he knew you wanted it, but I wasn't really listening because I still couldn't believe he'd eaten more than half a pizza by himself. So I asked him about that and he went all 'Batman' on me and said that it was just because he hadn't eaten all day and was really, really hungry."

Kid Flash furrowed his brow in concentration as Beast Boy concluded, "He left before I could ask how he managed to get away with not eating breakfast with Alfred and Batman on his back."

"Do you know where Robin is now?"

"Uh… no?"

Kid Flash sighed in resignation.

"Alright, it looks like that's the end of it then. I guess we'll have to order something else for lunch."

* * *

**Of course, we all know that's not really the end, don't we?**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**Nightwing Gurl-**I doubt Robin would appreciate a surprise party at the moment. Or any moment. That kid needs some serious help with his social skills (or lack thereof... LOL).

**Boleyn-**Dick always does seem to get the worst of everything, doesn't he? Of course, that's half the fun! For us, I mean...

**JLAfan-**You're welcome! It's fun posting and getting reviews from all you people. I like hearing from you every week.

**ShockMePeter-**That review made me laugh_ so_ hard... I've never liked the whole Nightwing thing too much, mostly thanks to those 'replacements' (i.e. Tim Drake). But I'm working on it! Just the Nightwing part, I mean... and to answer your question, no, I've never had an eating disorder :)

**SarahC4321-**I'm sorry to say that it'll be quite a while before everybody really 'snaps out if it'. This stupid story somehow got to be 171 pages, so there's plenty of time to get Robby some help...

**The BatThing-**Here's some more! And like I said, this story was almost never-ending, so there'll be lots more chapters in the future!!

**caltha-**Yeah! But I'd better not hit Bruce, because he might decide to hit back for writing this thing... hee hee...

**kokomocalifornia-**Aw, that makes me feel good. XD Reviews generally have that effect on me...

**CrazyInsomaniac-**That's a great mental image!! (laughs) Bruce always has been clueless when it comes to Dick's upbringing. I read a fic once where he offered eight-year-old Dick _coffee_, for heaven's sake. (laughs some more)

**kuramagal-**I like Dick-torture... (whistles innocently) And like I said, Bruce needs a little help in the parenting department. I suppose that's why he's got Alfred.

**AddictedtoTsuzukiTatsumi-**Hey, you're a new reviewer, aren't you? Thanks for taking the time to review! And thanks for the kind words, too!


	14. Sinking Lower

**Whoa, okay, the amount of reviews I've been getting for this is absolutely _insane_. I can't thank you all enough for all the feedback!! If this keeps up, the replies will be longer than the story! But please, do keep reviewing. And another thanks to all you silent readers who are enjoying this as well. And I know you're out there because I am often one myself. XD**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Thirteen: Sinking Lower

The rest of April went by in a similar manner. Robin kept losing weight, but at a much slower rate than before, which was supposedly good news. However, there was soon a new problem they'd have to deal with.

Food kept disappearing from the Tower.

A _lot_ of food.

Naturally, Kid Flash and Cyborg were the first suspects, as they tended to eat more than anyone else. But after careful interrogation, the Titans were fairly satisfied that they were not the culprits.

"Well, then, who _is_ responsible?" Cyborg demanded to know. "We can't just keep letting this go—it's costing us a fortune!"

"Perhaps we should post guards around the kitchen to catch the thief?" Starfire suggested.

"But we don't know who did it," Aqualad reminded her. "Whoever it is could steal the food during their watch without anyone else knowing about it."

"He's right. A security camera would be a better idea," added Kid Flash.

"No good. We all know how to deactivate security cameras," Robin objected, shaking his head.

"But suppose the thief is not one of us?"

"Sorry, Star, but it has to be," said the Boy Wonder. "Nobody else would be able to get past our security system. Looks like the only way we'll ever catch this person is if they come clean and confess."

"But what are we gonna do in the meantime?" asked Cyborg. "We can't afford to keep feeding whoever it is!"

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

Then Robin turned and left the room without a word.

"Am I the only one who is confused?" Aqualad questioned hesitantly. When everyone else shook their heads in agreement, the Atlantean continued, "Robin made it sound like… like he knew who the thief was."

"Or maybe he _is_ the thief."

"Raven! How can you say such things?" cried Starfire in horror.

"Why not? He's a Titan, and he knows our security systems better than anyone except Cyborg. He's not above suspicion. Maybe that was just his way of saying that he's not going to steal our food anymore."

"But why? What's his motive?"

"I don't know, Cyborg… and I don't think he plans on telling us anytime soon."

---

Robin leaned wearily against the door to his room at the Tower. He was alone now, away from the others. He was safe now.

For a little while, anyway.

During the past month, his impulses to eat had gotten completely out of his control. Now, instead of eating and throwing up every once in a while in an emergency, he would—for lack of a better term—binge and purge several times a day.

He could never find the foods he wanted to binge on at home, at least not in large enough amounts. So he'd been spending a lot of time at the Tower lately, eating as much as he possibly could—sometimes even more—before taking that horrible ipecac and throwing it all up again.

Which reminded him. It would only be a matter of time before the toilets started clogging and somebody got suspicious. He'd have to start using the sinks or something.

Robin ran a hand through his hair, feeling so vulnerable. What was the _matter_ with him? All he'd wanted to do was lose a little weight—in fact, that was _still_ all he wanted to do. But now everything was spinning so wildly out of control… God… why couldn't he _control_ himself anymore? Everything was just getting too crazy. He just wanted it all to end right now.

Now _there_'s an idea…

_You mean kill myself? But I… that's… Batman always told me that that's the coward's way out._

And what are you? Brave? Ha… you didn't even have the guts to confess that you're the one who's been stealing the food…

_How could I? What would they think of me then?_

They couldn't possibly think any _worse_ of you… what kind of a leader are you, anyway? Setting such a lousy example for such competent crime-fighters… in fact, they'd probably… no, _definitely_… be better off without you…

Besides, it'll be so easy… with all the tools in your utility belt, there must be something that you could kill yourself with…

At the mention of his belt, Robin habitually tightened it a little more until it was cutting into his skin. Why couldn't he get it any smaller, he angrily wondered?

Robin's suicidal thoughts were mercifully cut short by a knock on the door. He stepped away from the door and opened it to see Aqualad standing there.

"Hey, Gillhead. You wanna come in?"

"Thank you."

Robin closed the door behind Aqualad and leaned against it once again. He was hoping to disguise the fact that he was feeling too dizzy to stand up straight.

Aqualad stood there quietly for a moment or two, just looking at Robin. Trying to read his body language and figure out if what Raven had said was true. Robin, becoming a little concerned, finally spoke.

"Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," said Aqualad. "But please don't tell anyone I was here or they will think I'm a tattletale."

Robin found it rather amusing the way Aqualad said 'tattletale' as if he'd never heard the word before. They probably didn't have any word for 'big mouth' in Atlantis, he figured.

"Okay, you were never here. What is it?"

"I wanted to tell you… Raven thinks you're the one who has been stealing our food lately. I just thought you should know."

Robin tried desperately to look casual as he shrugged and reasoned, "S'okay. She's entitled to an opinion."

Aqualad gave him a searching look. Something was just plain wrong about this whole thing. He couldn't help but feel like they were overlooking something here.

"Robin…" he began hesitantly, "if there is anything you want to talk about… if something is worrying you, you can talk to me. To any of us. You know that, don't you?"

Robin glanced up, a haunted look on his masked face.

"You believe her, don't you?" he asked quietly. "You think I'm the thief."

"I don't know who the thief is," said Aqualad. "I just—"

"No, I'm not blaming you or anything," interrupted the Boy Wonder, holding his hand up. "I was just… saying. It's fine."

They stood there, awkward silence hanging between them. Finally, Aqualad stuttered, "I-I guess I'd… better go…"

"You don't have to," Robin said. He couldn't explain it, but he suddenly wanted to be with somebody, to talk to somebody. It seemed as if he had been distancing himself from everyone lately, and they, in turn, had been distancing themselves from him. Now he just wanted a friend. A _real_ friend. "You can stay if you want…"

"Thank you, Robin… but I should be getting home."

Aqualad hesitated for a moment, as Robin was still blocking the door. But eventually, the Boy Wonder stepped aside and opened the door so his fellow Titan could exit.

Then he locked the door behind him.

Once again, he was safe.

He was alone.

Except, of course, for the ice cream and potato chips he'd stolen from the kitchen earlier that day…

---

"Cy, it's _true!_ Why won't you believe me?"

"Because it's ridiculous! Now would you shut up and play the game?"

Kid Flash sighed in exasperation. He was supposed to be playing a new video game with Cyborg, but his attention kept wandering back to the week-old 'unsolved' case of the missing foodstuffs. He knew Robin had taken the food, and he knew why. Since Cyborg was the one who had been wondering about the motive, he had tried convincing him of his eating disorder theory once again.

But Cyborg wasn't buying it.

"But if you'd only listen—"

"Ha! That's another ten thousand points for me! Beat that, Twinkletoes!"

"Cyborg, this is—"

Kid Flash was interrupted a second time when the door to the rec room slid open. The two looked up to see that it was Robin who had entered.

"Hey, Short Pants," Kid Flash greeted, hitting the pause button.

"Hi, Robin," Cyborg added. "What did you do to your hair?"

"…Nothing. Why?" asked Robin.

"I don't know. It just looks… hey, maybe it's not your hair," Cyborg thought out loud while Robin kept giving him strange looks. "Maybe it's your face… yeah, that's it."

"What's wrong with my face?!"

"Nothing. It's just thinner, that's all. You've lost weight. _Again._"

Kid Flash never forgot the look in Robin's eyes as Cyborg said those words. He never forgot the one emotion that crossed his face—

Satisfaction.

"Really? You noticed?"

He sounded… _pleased_…

"Of course I noticed!"

…_Thrilled_, almost…

"Good. I was beginning to think that extra work would never pay off! Look, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've really gotta be going. I promised Wonder Girl and Starfire I'd do a little sparring with them. See you later, huh?"

Robin left the room, not noticing when Cyborg muttered, "Sure."

There was a moment of silence as Cyborg and Kid Flash tried to figure out Robin's reaction. Then, finally, Cyborg turned to the red-headed boy beside him and said, "What was that word again?"

"What word?"

"…Anorexia."

---

Dick spent an unusually long time in the changing room before going out on patrol with Batman that night. For some reason, he couldn't get his body to move as fast as he wanted it to. He just felt so tired…

He'd been daydreaming while putting on his costume, but was brought back to stark reality when he tried to fasten his utility belt.

As usual, he tried to tighten the belt so it would fit properly around his ever-slimming waist.

But it wouldn't tighten.

The belt was already as small as it could possibly be.

Dick stared at it through his mask and blinked a couple of times, somewhat startled by this new development.

Then he smirked in grim satisfaction.

Batman was about to get out of the car and go after the boy when he heard the door to the changing room click open.

_Finally_.

He didn't look directly at Robin as the boy took his place in the Batmobile, but stole a quick sideways glance as he fastened his seatbelt.

"Where's your utility belt?"

"It broke," Robin replied smoothly. "I'll fix it when we get back."

Batman started the car.

"Stay close tonight," he ordered. "You're more vulnerable without the belt."

"Will do," Robin promised.

As they tore out of the Cave, Robin couldn't help but notice one small detail that almost made his heart sink—

Batman hadn't even _suspected_ the lie.

Why? He was one of the most observant people in the world. He should have seen right through Robin's charade and demanded to see the belt himself.

But he hadn't.

There were only two possible explanations for that.

The first was that Robin was becoming a better liar from all the practice.

The second was that Batman just didn't care.

Robin slouched a little and sighed quietly to himself. It didn't take a genius like Batman to figure out which explanation was most logical.

---

"There's something wrong with that boy, and we both know it!"

Superman slammed his fist against the wall, rattling the entire room, to emphasize his point.

"Why Batman doesn't want us to have anything to do with Robin's welfare is anybody's guess," the Man of Steel continued, looking straight at his one-man audience. "I don't know about you, but I'm not going to just sit back and _watch_ this any more!"

"You know I agree with you, Clark, but what are we going to do about it?" the Flash told him with a shrug. "Robin is his kid. We don't have any right to interfere with their business."

"Don't have any right!"

Flash jumped slightly, surprised by the sharp tone Superman was using. He couldn't even remember the last time his fellow hero had been this angry.

"We have _every_ right, as far as I'm concerned! It's obvious that Dick hasn't been getting nearly enough to eat for several months now, and that's as good a sign of child abuse as I've ever seen!"

"Clark… I don't know if you realize this or not…" Flash started hesitantly, "but you just accused Batman of _starving_ his legal ward."

Superman paused a moment, replaying the conversation in his mind, and then allowed his mind to wander to the disturbing image of Batman's junior partner.

"Yes, I guess I did," he admitted quietly.

They were quiet for a minute before Superman continued, "I'm serious, Barry, we have to do something about this. I'm not going to stand for it any longer. Are you with me or aren't you?"

The Flash stared down at the table he was sitting on, and then the floor beneath him. He'd never been crazy about the way Batman was raising his boy, but Robin had always seemed happy enough, so he had let it slide. But now it was becoming apparent that something very wrong was going on in Gotham City.

"What do you want me to do?" he queried at last.

"Get the rest of the League over to the meeting room," Superman ordered. "Batman should be out on patrol for the rest of the night, so we won't have to worry about his interference. Right now let's see what everyone else thinks and then decide what to do."

Flash nodded and slowly stood up. As he passed by the Man of Steel, he gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. Then he left the room, only switching to his super speed after he was well away from the lab.

Superman paused a moment before he, too, left the lab.

---

Right from the start, it was clear that there would be a lot of heated debate and controversy at this meeting. As it was, everyone was a little annoyed that Flash had called them all away from their regular duties without giving a good reason (or _any_ reason). And when they heard what was going on, the tension in the meeting room doubled.

Wonder Woman was the first to speak up.

"I've known Batman as long as you have, and I find it impossible to believe that he is capable of the crimes you are accusing him of," the Amazon princess stated firmly. "He may not show it, but I know that Batman really loves Robin."

"Well if you've got a better explanation for Robin's condition, then now's the time to tell us," Superman replied softly.

"I never said I knew what the matter was with Robin," she argued, "but I know that Batman would _never_ do what you are suggesting!"

"Has anybody thought to ask the butler?" Green Lantern interjected. "If anything's going on at Wayne Manor, I'm sure he'll know about it."

"But he's the _butler_—if Batman tells him to lie about whatever's going on with Robin, then he will!" Green Arrow objected.

"Are you saying that you _agree_ with Superman about this?" Aquaman asked incredulously.

"Now wait just a minute…!"

As the League continued to argue, Superman was quickly zoning out. His super hearing had just picked up a soft, strange noise from the hall.

Being as discreet as possible, Superman rose from his chair and slipped out of the room. A moment later, he was back, telling everyone to quiet down. They fell silent and turned to stare at the Man of Steel.

He was standing in the doorway, holding Robin firmly by the arm.

* * *

**For those of you who have been wondering whether Robin lives or not, I've decided. But for the sake of suspense, I'm not going to tell you for a while... hee hee... (evil grin)**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**Lil' Kanny-**I've found that it's quite common for a person to enjoy seeing their favorite characters suffer. Must be a disease or something. ;-)

**The BatThing-**Well, there's a comment I've never heard before! But yeah, I guess Bruce is sort of cute when he's completely and utterly clueless...

**loopylouise123-**Thanks for reviewing! That's the first time somebody's kicked Speedy. Get your kicking leg ready, because you'll probably want to kick him again in a chapter or two...

**JLAfan-**Thank you for the kind words, and you're welcome :)

**lauthom-**I've notice that Bruce is 'out of his depth' about 85 percent of the time when it comes to Dick. No wonder the kid's got issues, lol. Thanks for the review!

**caltha-**Yeah, our poor little Boy Wonder is definitely needing help right about now. Hopefully the League will do something about that soon!

**kokomocalifornia-**Well, we got some sort of intervention in this chapter. The Titans should be making their move pretty soon as well (hint).

**kuramagal-**Yes, I love puppies, too! They really need a dog... anyway, as tempting as it is, please don't try to kill Bruce. I'd miss talking to you every week.

**Boleyn-**Well, I guess I'm doing my job then, because this story _is_ supposed to be a little disturbing (or a lot disturbing, depending on who you are).

**SarahC4321-**Well, that's including the prologue and epilogue, so the story is actually closer to 167 pages... and many thanks for the cookies!! Feel free to call me TAP whenever you want.

**Nightwing Gurl-**Here's the next chapter! Not as long, but just as satisfying, I hope!

**reioyamada-**Hey, thank you! I'll see what I can do about the happy ending thing. And thanks for reading my other stories! "The Sidekick Strike" is one of my personal faves, too.

**ShockMePeter-**Thanks, but don't kill yourself just to read my story! I'll still be here for many weeks to come, so if you're sick, go back to bed!! Get well soon :)

**AddictedtoTsuzukiTatsumi-**Well, Clark's doing something, anyway. He'll be giving Bruce the proverbial smack in a chapter or two. Glad to have you here!

**Gohanzgirl-**Yay thanks! I'm glad you're liking it so much.

**SparklesPlenty-**Othello? Really? I've never read it. I'm more of a Jules Verne person myself. Before I get off-topic, yes, I think Dick will feel much better when someone finds out, even if this relief is only subconscious.

**steelelf-**Alright already! I would have done it earlier, but I was watching _Pal Joey_ with my mom and sister. But I'm here now!!


	15. Ultimatum

**Hee hee, I have nothing to complain about today. Lucky you. So let's just dive straight into the next chapter, shall we?**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Fourteen: Ultimatum

_Earlier that night..._

The Dynamic Duo came home early that night to tend to injuries sustained by the younger of the pair. He had brashly disobeyed his partner's orders to stay close and attempted to capture a certain villain by the name of Two-Face by himself.

He'd succeeded. But he'd hurt his right arm when Two-Face attempted to take him hostage, twisting Robin's arm behind his back until it snapped.

Batman said nothing to the boy as he drove him to Dr. Thompkins' office and watched the trusted middle-aged woman fix Robin's arm. He didn't even speak when they were back in the safety of the Cave.

But Robin did.

"I _got_ him!" he said excitedly. "Did you see the way I knocked him out, Batman? Gee… I finally caught someone all by myself!"

Batman brought the car to a halt in its usual spot in the Batcave. Then he got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him.

"You're grounded," was all he said.

"Well I know that," Robin replied. He, too, exited the car, but without slamming the door. "A robin can't fly with a broken wing."

"After your arm has healed, you're grounded for two weeks."

"What?!"

"For disobeying my orders."

"I _caught _him, didn't I?" Robin argued, chasing after his senior partner. "Every time I try to do something good, and actually manage to do it, you always find something wrong with it! You think I wouldn't have prevented Two-Face from breaking my arm if I could have?"

"I'm not punishing you for capturing Two-Face. I'm punishing you for disobeying my orders. And you don't need to speak to me in that tone."

"Well… shouldn't catching Two-Face sorta cancel out the insubordination?"

"I've already cut your punishment from four weeks to two."

"I don't think that's fair!"

"I do."

"Come on, Batman—!"

"I've already cut your punishment in half. Don't make me double it."

Robin moved his lips wordlessly, trying to come up with a suitable argument that wouldn't get him into deeper trouble. But he couldn't think of anything and closed his mouth, glaring steadily at the Dark Knight.

Batman ignored the boy and left. Robin almost followed, but decided he was too angry to see the man again just yet.

How could Batman be so unfair about this?! He had just seen—with his own two eyes—Robin take down one of Gotham's most dangerous felons! And he was still being punished for it! Sure he'd disobeyed an order, but if he hadn't, they might not have been able to catch Two-Face! It just wasn't fair. Even when he did something right, it turned out wrong.

_Doesn't that just figure?_ Robin thought, disgusted.

Finally, he decided to spend a little time alone in the Watchtower. The Justice League shouldn't be there, except for maybe one or two of them that were unfortunate enough to be on monitor duty. But the odds were that he could be pretty much alone to brood until daybreak.

It took Robin all of thirty seconds to use the transporter. He instantly headed for the gym. He didn't know what he'd be able to do with a broken arm, but there must be something.

There'd _better_ be something.

He never made it to the gym. The sound of voices from the meeting room stopped him in his tracks. He knew he shouldn't eavesdrop, but it sounded like they had just mentioned his name…

"Well if you've got a better explanation for Robin's condition, then now's the time to tell us," said someone who sounded like Superman.

"I never said I knew what the matter was with Robin," Wonder Woman said, sounding defensive, "but I know that Batman would _never_ do what you are suggesting!"

_Do what? _Robin wondered.

"Has anybody thought to ask the butler?" Green Lantern interjected. "If anything's going on at Wayne Manor, I'm sure he'll know about it."

_WHAT'S going on at Wayne Manor?! They make it sound like they think Batman's been beating me with a two-by-four…_

"But he's the _butler_—if Batman tells him to lie about whatever's going on with Robin, then he will!" Green Arrow objected.

"Are you saying that you _agree_ with Superman about this?"

"Now wait just a minute!" yelled Green Arrow. "I never said I agreed with him on anything! I just said that _if_ Bats has been abusing Robin, then he'll obviously cover his tracks pretty well."

_They DO think Batman's been beating me with a two-by-four! _Robin realized, gasping in shock. _Or something pretty close… but why? What did I…?_

"Hey."

Robin had no time to ponder that question before Superman's quiet voice interrupted him.

Robin rolled his eyes.

Busted.

Knowing he'd never get away from the Man of Steel (at least not alive), Robin allowed Superman to lead him into the meeting room and show the League what he'd caught outside in the corridor.

"Robin," Wonder Woman started in an inquisitive tone, "what are you doing here so late?"

"Eavesdropping, mostly," Superman answered for the Boy Wonder. "Just how much of this did you hear?"

"Not enough," Robin told him, a bit cheekily. "Could you let go of my arm now, please? One busted arm is bad enough, but I don't know what I'd do with two of 'em."

"What happened to that arm, anyway?"

Superman promptly let go of Robin's wrist, but the boy refused to answer his question. What they didn't know was that Robin was too embarrassed to explain what had happened with Two-Face, or with Batman down in the Cave.

So he remained silent, gently touching the cast on his wounded arm. Wonder Woman and Green Lantern exchanged glances. Of course Robin had been injured before, but he'd never been shy to talk about it—or anything else, for that matter.

"Did Batman have anything to do with it?"

"No, it was nothing like that!" cried Robin. "It was my fault, not his. I… I guess I kinda deserved it for not thinking about what I was doing."

"You _deserved_ to get your arm broken?" Flash said in surprise.

"Forget it. I'll be alright. I don't mean to be rude here, but would you mind explaining just what you were saying about Batman? I don't think I liked what I heard."

"You know better than to listen in on other peoples' conversations," Aquaman scolded lightly. He didn't miss a beat before adding, "You often miss half the story when you listen in."

"I'd be happy to stick around while you fill me in."

"We'll tell you later, Robin. For now, why don't the two of us head over to the cafeteria and have some hot chocolate while discussing what you're doing here so late?"

Superman started to steer Robin out of the room, but at the last second, the boy cried out, "Wait a minute!"

Robin felt his face heat up as the League turned to stare at him, looking mildly surprised by his outburst.

"Okay, I lied," he admitted. "I know exactly what you were talking about. You all think Batman's been hitting me or something. Right?"

"…Not exactly, Robin."

"Well, what, then?"

And Superman told him.

Robin stared incredulously.

"What?! No! No, it's… it's not _like_ that! How could you think a thing like that? Batman would never… I mean…"

"Don't worry, Robin," Wonder Woman reassured the boy as she glared in Superman's direction. "Not all of us believe that."

"I'm not enthusiastic about buying into that story either," Flash agreed. "So maybe Robin can provide a slightly less morbid explanation for the weight loss?"

"…You noticed?"

"Of course we noticed! You can't miss it!"

"Really?"

Robin smiled a little at this, almost forgetting the severity of the situation and the consequences for Batman should the League get enough 'evidence' together.

"What's so funny, Robin?"

"Huh? No, I wasn't…"

The boy suddenly seemed to remember just what was occurring here.

He sighed in exasperation and began to plead, "Look, please listen to me… just give me a little time, okay? I promise—Batman would never do anything to me, especially not what you're suggesting. Please, trust me."

Superman scanned the group, trying to get their opinions on the matter by looking at their faces. After a moment, he turned back to Robin and held up an index finger.

"One week," he warned firmly. "If you haven't made any visible improvements by then, I take over. Do you understand me, Robin?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure… I mean… Yes, I understand, sir."

"Good."

Seeing the hurt look on Robin's face, Superman lowered his hand and placed it on the boy's shoulder instead.

"We're only worried about you, kiddo," he said gently. "You can understand that, can't you?"

Robin nodded and gave him a weak half-smile.

---

Alfred sighed and poured Master Bruce a cup of tea he knew wouldn't be drunk, all while listening to the story of that night's misadventures.

"It was my fault, Alfred," the younger man was saying. "I just wanted to get out there and get Two-Face… I should have made him stay home, or at least insisted that he fix the belt first."

"Well I must say that that would have been the safer course of action," Alfred had to admit, "but it sounds as if Master Robin is more to blame for this than you are."

"Well, maybe."

Alfred knew his employer too well to be fooled into thinking that this was the end of the conversation.

"But?"

Bruce rose from his chair and began pacing the room as a way of venting his frustration.

"But I did _nothing!_ I just stood there and I _watched_ Two-Face snap Robin's arm like a twig!" he loudly chastised himself. "I should have done something!"

"Master Bruce, really. If there was something you could have done to prevent the lad from harm, you would have found it and done it. Or did you let Two-Face capture Master Robin on purpose?"

"Of course not!"

"Well then…?"

Bruce sighed, seeing the sense in the butler's words. Nevertheless, he was still reluctant to shift the blame to anyone but himself. It was a lifelong habit that he hadn't even tried to break.

"I'm going to bed," he finally growled.

He stood and headed towards the door, but ended up turning around as the secret door to the Batcave opened. Dick didn't even get the chance to fully close the door before Bruce, still in a bad mood, demanded, "And where have you been? I said you were grounded."

"_After_ my arm healed," Dick added defensively. "Does it look healed to you?"

"That will be quite enough out of the two of you," Alfred broke into the heated conversation. "Now you've both had a rough day, so I suggest you go upstairs and get a good night's rest. Then perhaps tomorrow you will be able to discuss this in a more civilized manner."

"Sorry, Alfred, but _Bruce_ says I need to study more, so I'll be staying up late for the next couple of nights."

"No you won't, and I _didn't_ give you permission to stay up late. I _did _give you permission to cut down on your exercise, and I intend to make sure you do so."

"You're absolutely _insufferable_."

"Master Dick…" Alfred said in a warning tone of voice.

"Well he is! I'm fourteen years old, and he still treats me like I'm ten!"

"Well perhaps if you'd start _acting_ a little more like a fourteen-year-old, then I'd _treat_ you like a fourteen-year-old," Bruce interjected.

"I doubt that very highly! Good _night!_"

Dick stormed across the room. Bruce, however, had had enough.

"For God's sake, Dick, what do you _want?!_"

Dick whipped around to face his mentor, his expression giving away his shock. Sure, Bruce had yelled at him before… but not like that. He'd never seen Bruce get that mad at anyone before.

Meanwhile, Bruce had calmed down just enough to mutter, "Could you leave us alone for a minute, Alfred?"

The older man nodded slightly in consent and left quietly. Dick knew he should say something, but he was still too stunned to form the words.

"Alright, Dick, we're alone," Bruce said, walking across the room, sounding more like Batman than ever. "Now what do you want from me?"

After a pause, Dick managed to stammer, "I… I don't—"

"Enough with the acting—you don't have to act with me. This has been going on for months now—you're upset all the time, trying to show off during patrol, eating almost nothing… You're doing all this for a reason, Dick, there's got to be a reason. You must want _something_. Just tell me what you want me to do to make you stop."

Dick stared, this time in helpless confusion. Bruce seemed to sense that he wasn't going to get an answer and asked, "Is it me? Do you want me to go away for a while or—"

"No!" Dick yelled. "I… I don't want you to go away…"

"Then _what? _Just tell me what you want, what's making you do this. Tell me what you want me to do. Whatever it is, as long as it's legal, I'll do it."

That's just like Bruce, isn't it… always worried about following the letter of the law even when supposedly worried about your health!…

"Bruce, I don't want anything!" Dick insisted, almost laughing at the absurdity of it all. "For gosh sakes… it's not like you to overreact this badly. Is everything okay? I mean—"

The boy stopped abruptly as Bruce savagely clasped both his shoulders in a vice-like grip. Dick stared wide-eyed at his mentor in surprise and a little fear.

The truth was, Dick didn't know _what_ he wanted anymore. Everything had gotten so out of control in the past few months that Dick's dreams seemed to have become lost in the mix. He was constantly ranting that he wanted everyone to leave him alone, but at the same time, he was afraid of being alone. He wanted someone to talk to, but he wouldn't know what to say.

He longed for a father… but was afraid to ask for one.

So he said nothing.

Bruce released his grasp.

"Fine," the man said shortly. "You win. I give up."

"Give up?"

"Yes. If you won't tell me what your problem is, then I'll have to let you sort it out by yourself."

By yourself.

_Alone_.

That word again…

"But—" Dick started to protest.

"What do you expect me to _do,_ Richard?"

"I don't… I don't know." Dick ran his good hand through his hair, disturbed to feel tears in his eyes. "I just… everything's all messed up… I'm sorry."

Dick left the room slowly, shaking his head as he went. Bruce watched him go.

He couldn't help but feel as if his efforts to get Dick to open up were just too little, too late.

* * *

**Hm... not my best chapter. (sighs) The action picks up again next chapter, I promise!!**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**Boleyn-**I'll see what I can do about Dick living (hey, I'm the author, I'd better be able to do something...).

**ShockMePeter-**LOL. Swim-shorts? Must be warm where you are, then. I know, Cyborg and Beast Boy are two of my favorite characters also!! XD

**JLAfan-**You're welcome. Oh, good, I'm glad to hear that everybody was in character. I didn't think Superman would just stand around and do nothing... at least not for long.

**steelelf-**(smiles) Everybody's so happy about Superman's appearance!!

**caltha-**I can't tell you at the moment whether Robin lives or not. I can't give away the ending! But you might want to keep some tissues by the computer, just in case...

**SparklesPlenty-**I love Robbie too--I just like, uh, teasing him a little. (cough)

**xXxQuothxXx-**Aw, thanks for the hugs (Dick says thanks, too). And congratulations. So far, you're the only one who would be even remotely happy if Dick died, myself excluded :)

**kokomocalifornia-**Oh, yeah. Just wait till next week. That's when things _really_ begin getting out of control. (rubs hands together and cackles evilly)

**CrazyInsomaniac-**That's okay, I have memory issues, too. ;-) And as for Clark... well, that's not exactly what he's gonna do...

**FrozenWaterLily-**(feels warm and fuzzy inside) Thank you! Yeah, I've heard stuff about drinking water to reduce feelings of hunger, but needless to say, I wouldn't recommend trying it.

**Gohanzgirl-**Yep, sounds like you definitely deserve a little extra sleep. (hands over teddy bear) Sweet dreams!

**SarahC4321-**(blinks in shock) Um... cool! Thanks!! Yeah, what're they all gangin' up on Batman for?! Well, I wrote it, so if _I _don't know, we're in trouble.

**QueenCaroline-**We're in the same boat--gotta love torturing poor Dickie! And I'll try to keep it up as best I can...

**Lil' Kanny-**Of course I'm cruel. I'm an author. I'm supposed to be cruel. Hee. I hope I answered you questions in this chapter, though.

**Queen Phoenix-**Really? Thanks! Great to see a new reviewer for this fic!

**Nightwing Gurl-**Hehe, yeah, that cliffy just sort of snuck up on me, too. I think that's the first time I've done that with this story. Maybe I'll put another one soon...

**Wiley Card-**Another new reviewer! (dances for joy) If you like what Superman did, wait'll you see what Speedy does. That kid is pure evil, I'm tellin' ya... well, not really. (hint, hint)

**kuramagal-**Ha ha, no way, Brucie! You're on your own here. This is what you get for ignoring Dick. And say hi to kuramagal for me, too. (sends over cake for the wedding)

**gatogirl1-**Thank you SO much for that review! It captured my own feelings perfectly, too. It's disgusting how much pressure there is to be thin, not to mention the prejudices against people who _aren't _thin.

**Hogaboom-**Like I said, I'll talk to my Muses, have them take a vote, and see what I can do about preventing Dick's untimely demise. It'll be tricky, though...


	16. Speaking Out

**Nice long chapter today. This time next week I'll have my driver's license! Yippee!! If I actually pass the test this time, that is. (sigh)**

**Gee, Paul Revere and the Raiders must be in really good shape to be bouncing up and down, playing guitars and singing all the time... (cough) Okay, that was completely irreverent. Sorry! XP**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Fifteen: Speaking Out

"Have you seen Robin?"

"KF, how many times are you going to ask me that?" Speedy asked with an exasperated sigh. "The last time anyone saw Robin was at the Watchtower three weeks ago. He ain't answerin' his communicator, Batman ain't talkin', and I ain't askin'! Now will you go bother somebody else?!"

Kid Flash was silent after this, so Speedy figured it was safe to go back to his target practice.

Two seconds later:

"But what if he's hurt, or in trouble?" the speedster cried out, causing Speedy to miss the target completely. "What if he needs us?"

"Needs _us?_ You've got to be kidding me," Speedy scoffed. "That dude is so far beyond perfect it's terrifying. Don't overreact. I'm sure he's fine."

"Fine, fine, fine. That's all we've been saying lately," grumbled Kid Flash as he stormed from the room. "'Everything's fine.' 'Don't worry, it's fine.' Well, everything's _not_ fine, and I intend to prove it!"

Speedy cringed as his fellow Titan slammed the gym door shut, and then he growled when he noticed that his arrow had missed the target for the third time in a row.

"Wait until I catch up with that little hick…"

Meanwhile, in the rec room, Kid Flash had picked up the regular phone and was busy dialing Dick's cell phone number. Why didn't we think of this sooner, he wondered?

On the third ring, someone picked up.

"Yeah?"

"Dick! Man, you're alive!" Kid Flash exclaimed, only half-joking.

"Hallelujah," Dick mumbled sarcastically. Kid Flash felt his own enthusiasm fading at Dick's half-hearted response. "You want something, Wally?"

Swallowing hard, Kid Flash admitted, "I was just worried about you. We've all been worried about you, in fact—it's not like you to disappear without warning. It's been three weeks already, Dick… where are you?"

"Clark's apartment."

"In Metropolis?! Well… uh… is everything okay? Can I, like, come over and see you or something?"

"I doubt it."

"… Can't you ask Mr. Wayne if it would be alright for me to visit?"

A long, uncomfortable pause followed. Kid Flash bit his lip, growing more apprehensive by the second.

"No," said Dick at last, putting emotion into his voice for the first time since picking up the phone. Unfortunately, that emotion seemed to be sorrow. "Bruce and I stopped talking some time ago."

_And we stopped communicating long before then,_ Dick silently added.

"Stopped talking? What do you mean, stopped talking? As in…"

"As in _stopped talking_, alright?" Dick sounded very annoyed now. "Now if there's a point to all this, would you mind making it now? As in _right now?_"

"Okay."

Kid Flash didn't even bother hanging up the phone before paying a spontaneous visit to Clark Kent's apartment. He was greeted with the sight of his best friend sitting at a desk holding the phone in his hand.

"Nice sweater," were Kid Flash's first words to Dick. "It's a little warm for that, though, isn't it?"

Dick, although startled, managed to give Kid Flash a rotten look before slamming the phone down.

"Geez! Do you know what he'd do to me if he found out you were here? Go away!" Dick hissed. He kept glancing around nervously, as if expecting someone to show up. Kid Flash cocked his head in confusion.

"Dick, are you okay?" he asked in concern, quickly closing the gap between them. "Is there something about this you're not telling me? What are you doing here, anyway? You're a long way from home."

Dick silently glared at the floor, refusing to answer.

"There _is_ something wrong, isn't there?" Kid Flash concluded.

Finally, Dick looked up. He looked… scared?

"If I tell you, you have to _swear_ not to tell _anyone_. Not even the Titans," Dick said lowly. "You got that, Twinkletoes?"

"Alright already! Now would you tell me what's going on?"

Before Dick had a chance to answer, the sound of someone turning a key in a lock made him jump in panic.

"Hide!" Dick whispered frantically. Kid Flash put his speed to good use and quickly ducked behind the couch. He heard the front door opening and closing, and he could just see Dick standing up. He did it slowly, as if moving were painful.

"Hey, Clark. You're back early," Dick said.

_It's just Clark. It must be safe to come out—he knows all our secret identities_, Kid Flash figured. So he popped up from behind the couch and greeted happily, "Yeah! Hi, Clark!"

"Kid Flash, what are you doing here?" Clark asked, sounding surprised. He threw Dick a suspicious glance before turning his attention back to the Flash's sidekick. Dick noticed the look and retorted hotly, "He's got nothing to _do_ with it, Clark. I didn't even _want_ him here, so you can quit being all overprotective now."

Kid Flash watched in stunned silence as Dick stormed into a different room and slammed the door shut.

"What was _that_ all about?" he asked.

"You really don't know?"

"Well, Dick was about to tell me when you came in."

Clark sighed and removed the glasses, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Alright, sit down, I'll tell you."

Kid Flash did as he was told and waited for Clark to explain. He seemed reluctant to start, which just fueled Kid Flash's fear for his teammate.

"Alright," Clark said again. "Here's what happened…"

---

_Superman scanned the group, trying to get their opinions on the matter by just looking at their faces. After a moment, he turned back to Robin and held up an index finger._

_"One week," he warned firmly. "If you haven't made any visible improvements by then, I take over. Do you understand me, Robin?"_

_"Yeah. Yeah, sure… I mean… Yes. I understand, sir."_

_A week came. A week went. Still there was no change in Robin's condition. And it was painfully obvious that the Boy Wonder was trying to avoid the Man of Steel, as if hoping that he wouldn't notice the lack of change if they didn't speak._

_Finally, Clark knew he'd have to do the unthinkable—_

_Follow through with his threat._

_So he gave the Gotham heroes a call. It was Dick who answered the phone, and when Clark asked him to come to Metropolis with Bruce so they could talk, Clark knew that the boy somehow understood what was coming. Dick didn't resist the order, but the tone of his voice when he consented told Clark that he understood the true purpose of the conversation to follow._

_Even though he was all the way down the hall, Clark could hear the elevator doors opening. His heartbeat picked up as the footsteps drew closer to his apartment door, and then again as someone knocked._

_"It's open."_

_Clark turned and braced himself as he spotted Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson in his doorway._

_He'd figured that, if he had to say it, he should say it as Clark Kent, not Superman._

_And seeing as how Dick was just as sickly-looking as he had been a week ago, he'd have to say it._

_"Hello, Dick… Bruce," Clark greeted, his voice somewhat colder with Bruce than with Dick. "Won't you sit down?"_

_"You called us here for a reason," Bruce abruptly changed the subject. He motioned for Dick to sit down while he himself remained standing. "What is it?"_

_Dick hadn't uttered a word since entering the apartment. His eyes were cast down at his lap, where he was nervously playing with his hands. Clark hated seeing Dick this way… which was exactly why he had to do this._

_"Bruce, I know how you hate beating around the bush, so I'll get straight to the point. I've been talking to the League… and we need some answers concerning Dick's weight. Now."_

_The room fell silent for a moment. Finally, Bruce turned to the boy behind him and said, "Well?"_

_Dick glanced up at his mentor. The expression on his face seemed to indicate panic, but Bruce didn't get a very good look before Dick turned towards the other man in the room._

_"Clark, please don't do this," he begged quietly. "You're making a big mistake, believe me…"_

_"Dick, what do you know about this?" Bruce instantly demanded._

_"I hate to interrupt this conversation," said Clark, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, "but we've already let this go much longer than we should have. Bruce, I'm sorry, but if you can't provide an explanation for Dick's apparent 'illness', then we'll have to take him away from you."_

_Clark paused a moment to let the information sink in. He noticed that Dick looked like he really hadn't expected it to come down to this. He probably hadn't believed it that day in the Watchtower, when Superman had given the Boy Wonder one week to straighten things out at home. It was a shame to have to do this…_

_Finally, he turned back to Bruce, who was glaring daggers at him._

_"**Nobody** is taking Dick **anywhere**."_

_"I'm sorry to have to do this, but it's for his own good."_

_"Don't be sorry," Bruce said shortly. "Because I'm not going to let you do it."_

_"Bruce—"_

_"People have tried to take Dick away before, but they didn't succeed. And **you **won't, either." He turned to Dick and ground out, "Come on, Dick. We're leaving."_

_Bruce didn't get more than one step forward before Clark moved in front of him, blocking his path._

_"Dick is staying here. I'll be over to pick up his things later."_

_"I wouldn't try it if I were you, Clark."_

_"It's not just me. I've got the entire League on my side. Don't make me call them in."_

_"Is that a **threat**?"_

_"Why doesn't someone ask me what I think?" Dick put in. "Throughout this whole thing, everybody's been trying to run my life without even asking me!"_

_"I asked you at the Watchtower a week ago," Clark reminded him sharply. "You said you would take care of it. Have you?"_

_Dick quickly fell silent._

_---_

"So you forced him to stay here?" Kid Flash concluded, his stomach churning.

Clark swallowed and replied, as if speaking was difficult, "We gave him every chance, Wally. But Bruce was clearly not giving him enough to eat. I had to keep him here, for his own good."

"But Mr. Wayne _wasn't_ starving him! Dick was starving himself!"

"Now why would he do that?"

"I don't know, Clark. Yes, I agree with you that there's something wrong going on at Wayne Manor, but this isn't it!" Kid Flash stood, pointed at the door that Dick had vanished behind, and continued, "Clark, there's something wrong with Dick—I don't know what it is, or what's making him do this to himself, but he _is_ doing to himself! I _know_ he is! It's not like he's been eating normally with you either, has he?"

Clark was silent just long enough for Kid Flash to realize that he was right.

"I know you're worried about him. I am, too," the boy confessed in a soft, almost embarrassed, tone. "But the only way we'll figure out what's going on is to let him go home."

"I can't do that. He's not safe there."

Kid Flash was surprised by the instantaneous response, but pressed on anyway. Dick had been his best friend for years, always standing up for the people who were too frightened to speak for themselves. Now, for whatever reason, Dick was the one who'd been scared into silence. He needed someone else to speak for _him_.

And Wally West was determined to be that someone.

"But taking him away from the most important person in his life isn't going to help! Can't you see that? Please. I can't figure out what's going on if he's here… no offense or anything. I know you're doing your best."

"Kid Flash, believe me, if I thought that Dick would be safe at home, I'd let him go in a heartbeat. I'm sorry it had to come down to this, but… no. He's got to stay here until we find out what Bruce has been doing to him, and with the progress we're making—or _not_ making—it'll be a while yet."

Kid Flash's shoulders slumped in resignation. This was Superman he was arguing with. He didn't stand a very good chance of winning, especially while Clark was being so protective of Dick.

"Okay," he sighed. "Can I at least tell the Titans what's going on? They're kind of worried, too."

_Except Speedy, but he's a jerk. He doesn't count._

"Alright, you can tell them," agreed Clark, although a bit reluctantly. "They'll probably find out eventually anyway."

"Hey, Clark? Did Uncle Barry know about this?"

"Yes, he did. In fact, he was the one who suggested that Dick stay with me until we sorted this out."

---

"Why didn't you _tell_ me what was going on?!" yelled Wally. "I can't believe you knew and didn't tell me!"

"I didn't want you to get involved. Even _I_ didn't want to get involved, but when Dick kept losing weight…"

Barry noticed that his nephew didn't seem to be at all placated by the speech, so he let that sentence remain unfinished.

Shaking his head, he decided to try a different approach.

"Look, I don't know what's going on any more than you do. But I do know that Clark will make sure Dick gets enough food and rest, neither of which Bruce was providing him with." Barry paused and murmured, mostly to himself, "Although it _is_ odd that he would take good care of the boy for six years and then suddenly stop this way… that isn't like him at all."

Wally rolled his eyes and tried not to scream. Why wasn't anyone listening to him?! He spent more time with Dick than either Clark or Uncle Barry, so they _should_ listen to him!

"But I saw him today," he insisted, his tone betraying his impatience. "Dick is absolutely miserable! And Mr. Wayne… well, I don't know, he always looks miserable."

Barry couldn't resist a little smile at that. Wally took it as a sign that his uncle was beginning to loosen up, so he quickly begged, "Please reconsider, Uncle Barry. You're in the League, and Clark trusts you. Can't you just make him change his mind?"

"It's not that simple. You tried talking Clark out of it, didn't you? You saw how stubborn he was. The only way we'll ever convince Clark to change his mind is if we get him some definitive proof that Bruce had nothing to do with Dick's weight loss."

"'_We_'?"

"Hey, you think I enjoyed taking Dick away from his family?"

_Family?_ Wally thought. _Dick's family died in… oh, he means Mr. Wayne. Although Batman never struck me as the family type… but yeah, I guess so._

"Of course not," Barry answered his own question. "I'd like nothing better than to see Dick happily back at home where he belongs—'happily' being the key word here. I'm sure that you've noticed Dick's depression these past couple of months."

_More than you know, Uncle Barry… More than you know…_

_---_

Bruce sat at his desk in silence. He had already tried working on something productive, but he was too distracted. Usually, the Batman part of him would be able to keep Bruce Wayne on track, but this time, both halves were missing something that neither could ignore.

Exhaling through his nose, the man pulled open his desk drawer and reached for the framed photograph he had placed in there several long weeks ago. He had hoped that removing it from sight would also remove the pain he couldn't help but associate with the picture's subject.

It hadn't.

_Why did I have to bring that little brat into my life? I knew he'd just become one of those messy, spoiled, rebellious… always playing his music too loud… and I knew someone would take him away from me. There's always someone out there waiting to take my family away from—**why** did I bring that kid here?! I should have left him at the Juvenile Detention Center and let someone adopt him who deserved a kid like that…_

A door opened behind him. He put the photo back in its drawer before turning to face his unexpected visitor.

Barry Allen stood in front of the bookcase that hid the Cave's secret entrance. Bruce's expression hardened at the sight of him, and Barry knew that Bruce had heard of his part in Dick's forced relocation.

"What do you want?" he asked coldly.

"I figured it's about time somebody talked to you about Dick—"

"I have nothing to say on that subject."

"You want him _back_, don't you?"

"And since when have my wants been of any concern to you?"

Barry sighed inwardly. He had known that Bruce would be difficult about this, which was why Wally had been forbidden from coming with his uncle. But had he known that Bruce would be _this_ difficult, he probably would have dragged Hal and Diana along as back-up.

"Alright then, forget about that," said Barry. "What about what Dick wants?"

"I'm sure he's perfectly happy with Clark."

"Now you know that's not true. Yes, Dick and Clark are good friends, but… this is his home, his life… _you're_ his life and everyone knows it, including you."

"You took him _away _from me!" Bruce growled. He noticed a little too late that the pain he'd been hiding inside had begun to creep out into his voice. Which meant that it was way past time to either change the subject or leave the room. And since it was obvious that Barry had only come to discuss the boy…

Finally, Bruce stood and rudely walked away. Barry winced as the door slammed, and then sighed at the lack of progress he had made with his colleague. It was quite clear that the Flash had worn out his welcome in the Bat's territory.

_Well, I can't just leave. I promised Wally I'd help…_

Finally, Barry spotted the nearly-closed middle drawer on the right side of Bruce's desk. He had seen the billionaire hide something in that drawer before shoving it closed.

Barry tortured himself a little while, wondering whether he should open that drawer or just leave.

Eventually, curiosity won out. He walked over to the fine mahogany desk and, after glancing at the study door to make sure Bruce wasn't coming back, opened the drawer.

The Scarlet Speedster stared a moment, captivated by the framed photograph.

The photo was of Dick—an old one, obviously, as the boy's face held an eight-year-old roundness to it and one of his front teeth was missing. The picture couldn't have been taken more than a few months after Bruce took custody of the orphaned circus performer. Dick was kind of cute in that picture, he thought, especially with that big enthusiastic smile on his face…

Barry heaved a sigh.

It had been a long time since he'd seen Dick smile like that.

Finally, Barry replaced the photograph, closed the drawer, and left Wayne Manor. Once he was safely in the Batcave, he pulled out his cell phone, the one Wally had insisted he bring with him.

Wally had wanted him to bring it so his uncle could inform him what happened the moment it happened.

But Barry needed to contact someone else first.

He dialed the number. On the second ring, Clark Kent picked up.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, Clark. It's Barry. I was just calling to check on Dick, see how he's doing."

"Wally told you what happened at my apartment," Clark concluded, sounding somewhat annoyed.

"Would you put Dick on, please?" Barry questioned, changing the subject.

Barry heard the other man sigh ever so slightly. Nevertheless, Clark told him to hold on a minute while he went to get Dick.

It was actually much longer than a minute before Dick finally picked up.

---

"Wally told you what happened at my apartment," Clark concluded. This was beginning to annoy him now. Everyone had agreed that getting Dick away from his guardian would be the best thing for the boy, but now that they actually had to stand by their decision, everybody was backing out on him!

Apparently not wishing to answer that question, Barry changed the subject and asked, "Would you put Dick on, please?"

Clark sighed audibly.

"Hold on. I'll get him for you," the Man of Steel agreed nevertheless. He barely even heard Barry's "Thank you" before putting the phone on the desk and knocking gently on the bedroom door—or rather, _Dick's_ bedroom door. It had belonged to Clark not so long ago, but he had figured Dick wouldn't appreciate having to share a bed with anyone at the moment. So Clark had been camping out on the couch for the past few weeks.

When nobody answered the knock, Clark called out, "Hey, Dick! Telephone!"

"Who is it?"

"Barry."

There was a pause before Dick finally said, "I'll be there in a minute."

Clark nodded, mostly to himself, and went back to the phone to tell Barry that Dick was on his way.

Meanwhile, Dick was busy scribbling something onto an old wrinkled piece of notebook paper. For reasons unknown even to the young crime-fighter, he had started a list a month ago. A very _special_ list. One that he had been keeping mentally for at least two years now. One that had gotten depressingly long in recent months.

It was a list of adjectives.

About Bruce.

If a magazine article said that Bruce Wayne was good-looking, then Dick would add 'good-looking' to the list.

If an annoying party guest couldn't stop talking about Bruce's generous donation to some charity, then 'generous' went straight onto the list as well.

Anything good that anyone had ever said about Bruce… everything that Dick so desperately wanted to be… it was there for him to look at, review, memorize… it was all there.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to please those nagging Voices. Everything he did always fell short of their expectations. Even when they kept promising him that it wouldn't be much longer, that everything would be perfect after he lost a few more pounds, they refused to be content with Dick's work.

More than once, Dick had tried to quit. He had long ago given up on getting approval from _anyone­_. Bruce, the Titans, and especially the Voices all refused to be satisfied with what he did.

Yet still he kept trying.

But why? Why should he keep pushing himself if nobody cared?

Dick shook his head. He had all but forgotten that Barry was waiting to talk to him. Couldn't keep him waiting too long—who knew how long a minute was to a speedster? It would be rude to keep him waiting.

Finally, Dick stood. His tired limbs protested painfully against any sort of movement, but Dick pushed the aches out of his mind and went to answer that darned telephone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Dick, I haven't heard from you in a while. How've you been?"

Dick almost instantly had a whole selection of sarcastic retorts on the tip of his tongue, but he bit them all back.

"Fine. How are you?"

Dick rolled his eyes impatiently as Barry answered the question and proceeded to tell him all about the rest of the family, too. He just wanted this stupid phone call to end. He had had the evening all planned out—finish with the list, pretend to eat dinner, 750 sit-ups—and this call could throw his entire schedule off.

Actually, if you wanted to be perfectly honest, his schedule had already been messed up. If it was up to him, he'd be going out for a jog before dinner. Better yet, he'd be back home at Wayne Manor, spending his time in the gym.

But no. He was stuck here in Metropolis talking to Barry Allen over the phone.

"Dick," Barry said at last. He sounded like he was about to make his point. "I know that you're pretty anxious to get home right about now, and I know that Bruce wants you back just as badly, if not more."

"Why would Bruce want _me_ home?" Dick said flatly.

The question caught Barry off-guard. Even Clark, who'd been reading the newspaper on the couch, glanced up in surprise. Dick felt as if he should find their confusion satisfying, but he didn't.

"I went to see Bruce today," Barry tried again, "and I can state for a fact that he misses you…"

Dick snorted audibly and scoffed, "Bruce also happens to be a first-rate actor. If he managed to convince you that he misses me, he should get an Academy Award!"

Barry paused only a moment before he answered quietly, "You're not making this any easier, you know. I just want to help you."

"I never asked you to make it easier—and I _never_ asked for your help!" Dick shot back, temper flaring. "Besides, from what I've heard, I think you've helped quite enough already!"

Before Barry could even start a sentence, Dick had hung up on him.

Clark put the paper down, nonplussed by the boy's behavior. Dick had had his sarcastic moments, but never had he been outright _rude_. This thing must really be getting to him.

Dick turned slightly and noticed the reporter's staring.

"Alright, say it. Go ahead and say it," the boy ordered. "I behaved badly and we both know it, so why don't you say it?"

He wiped a tear away from his eye, thinking it would go unnoticed. He had forgotten about the enhanced vision and hearing that allowed Clark to see just how much he was hurting.

What Clark couldn't hear were Dick's thoughts…

…or the Voices screaming in his head.

"You really miss him, don't you?" Clark asked. Seconds later, he was thinking, _Well that was a stupid question. You knew he'd get homesick eventually, so why does his crying come as such a surprise?_

"Who?" was Dick's answer. He tried to sound nonchalant. He almost succeeded.

"You know perfectly well who."

"Then why won't you let me—!"

He stopped himself before he could finish the sentence. What was the point in saying it if Clark was too stubborn to even listen?

Resigning himself to his fate, Dick stormed towards the front door.

"Forget it," he spat viciously. "You can't possibly understand what it's like to totally hate your life."

Clark nearly called out to the boy, but in the end decided it would be best to just let him go for the moment. He was too worked up; they couldn't hold a meaningful conversation while Dick was so angry. Maybe Dick would be calmed down enough to talk by the time he came back from… wherever he was going. Clark considered spying on him, but decided against that, too. Let the boy have his privacy. The past few weeks had been tough on everybody.

---

Dick took the elevator down to the ground floor of Clark's apartment building. He knew he was taking a chance—for all he knew, Clark could be watching his every move right now. But these were the kinds of risks Dick was willing to take for the sake of perfection. Or, at least, his mind's own warped definition of perfection.

The first thing he did was run to the restaurant across the street and ask where the men's room was. Then he made sure he was alone in the bathroom before locking himself in and retching for nearly a half-hour, throwing up as much as he possibly could. He had been unable to purge as much as he would have liked these past few weeks, and he desperately wanted to make up for it now.

Finally, when Dick saw that he'd begun vomiting more blood than half-digested food, he stopped.

The boy stood, feeling shaky. His legs hurt from kneeling for so long, and the edges of his vision were beginning to get fuzzy and black.

You can't black out now, Grayson… this is the perfect opportunity! Can't you see it?

_I can't see anything at the moment…_

It's obvious… you're already out of that stinkin' little apartment, so why not take the chance to do a little jogging while you're here? Get rid of the extra calories you couldn't get rid of because you chickened out of sticking your finger down your throat another time…

Dick leaned heavily against the wall. He didn't really feel up to _moving_, let alone jogging.

…What are you waiting for? GO already!

But he had to.

* * *

**Things get really interesting next week. I can't tell you what, obviously, but I will say that Dick and Clark have a nice long talk...**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**Boleyn-**Fifty years, lol. Yeah, that sounds like a pretty good estimate to me. These guys have some serious issues...

**BatThing-**He's Superman. He's supposed to be perfect. Hee hee... but yeah, you have a point there. I think that's why Batman calls him a Boy Scout.

**ShockMePeter-**We got a little snow here, but it rained a lot recently so now it's mostly slush. Anyway, cool! I want Batman swimshorts now too! Mine are just green...

**SarahC4321-**Don't worry, they talk with Batman, um, soon. At least I think that's the word I'm looking for. And Kid Flash will spring into action within five chapters or so.

**Hogaboom-**Heh, thanks. XD I have to admit, I think this is my favorite story so far. It was fun to write in a warped, twisted sort of way...

**Robin Knight-**I'd hit Bruce, but I've already got another reviewer beating him with a wedding bouquet, so I think he's got the message. Thanks for reviewing!!

**steelelf-**Everybody wants to see the confrontation. Well, I guess there was a little one here, but the Titans are the ones who do the real confronting.

**JLAfan-**Got your message, LOL, thanks! You're the only person besides my sister and myself who knows of Dick's fate--but shh! It's a secret! Hee hee, I trust you :)

**kokomocalifornia-**Hopefully this made up for the last chapter. And if didn't, I apologize.

**CrazyInsomaniac-**(zips lip) Secret's safe with me! And I hope this chapter was long enough for you; it's almost ten pages...

**Gohanzgirl-**Yeah! I really loved doing that scene. Unemotional Bruce drives me crazy. (glowers)

**gatogirl1-**I almost didn't get a chance to update, actually, I was kinda busy. We got lucky! And, well, (cough). So much for being squashed. Clark gets straightened out next week...

**QueenCaroline-**Really? Cool! I'm brilliant! (giggles) Don't worry, I'm not that conceited. But really, I'm glad you liked the last chapter!

**caltha-**I really didn't mean for it to turn out that Wally was the only smart one... maybe I oughtta put this under horror instead, but that's just plain scary!

**kuramagal-**Ha ha, you go, girl! Hit him! (forms cheering section) Uh, anyway, I agree. I sure as heck wouldn't want Superman mad at _me!_

**Nightwing Gurl-**(sigh) Like I said, I know it wasn't my best. Was this one better?

**FrozenWaterLily-**You bet Robin's in trouble! He doesn't even know he's in trouble, really. That's why he didn't say anything to Bruce; he doesn't get it.

**AddictedtoTsuzukiTatsumi-**Thank you for the kind words! Everyone seems to be getting a case of wanting to smack people. Me too!!

**xXxQuothxXx-**Your screen name is fun to type out :) Did you really scream at the movie theater? I've never seen _Moulin_ _Rouge_, but I like the songs I've heard.

**SparklesPlenty-**(big smile) Many thanks! That was what I was going for with that chapter.


	17. Betrayal

**Okay, in the note before the last chapter, I meant 'irrelevant', not 'irreverent'. Now I feel like an idiot :-P**

**On an unrelated note, gee whiz, what have I done?! Now you all hate Superman!! O.O Ack! Ya'll can't hate Superman, he's... well, he's SUPERMAN!! (sigh) Okay, whatever...**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Sixteen: Betrayal

Another half-hour later, the front door opened once again. Clark, glad to know that Dick was finally back, finished changing the light in the bathroom and went to greet his roommate.

The relieved smile faded from Clark's face at the sight of the boy.

"Hey, Dick," was his subdued greeting.

"Hi," Dick apathetically responded. He seemed more interested in leaning against the door and wiping the sweat off his face with his shirtsleeve than in talking. He had that expression on his face again, that expression which indicated exhaustion. Like someone was pushing him way too hard.

Dick couldn't possibly have run into Bruce during that one, short hour he'd been AWOL, could he? Or had Wally been telling the truth? Did the young speedster know more about his friend's condition than he'd let on?

Swallowing once, Clark continued, "I don't feel like cooking tonight, so I thought for dinner we could head over to that new restaurant across the street. That alright with you?"

Dick almost cringed.

The restaurant across the street.

Oh my God.

"I'm not hungry, Clark, thanks. But you can go. Or I can cook, if you want…"

"That's nice of you, kiddo, but it won't be necessary." Pause. "So what have you been doing with yourself for the past hour?"

Dick froze.

_Oh… my…_

"By the way, you look a little tired. Is something wrong?"

_God!_

Feeling the panic rising in his chest, Dick cried out, "Nothing's wrong! I just… Look, I'm sorry, okay? I swear, that was the first time I've done it, it was a stupid thing to do, and I'll never do it again, I promise!"

Clark blinked, obviously surprised.

"What are you talking about?"

Dick suddenly realized that he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Clark did not spend that evening at the restaurant with Dick as he had planned. Instead, he spent it sitting on the couch as Dick slowly divulged his many secrets. Clark listened, first in shock and later in anger, guilt, and fear. Especially fear. Each emotion played out plainly across his face, but it didn't stop him from prompting Dick to tell more every time the boy looked like he wanted to bolt.

Dick courageously bit back his tears, fighting both the lump in his throat and the Voices in his head. Subconsciously, he supposed he had wanted someone to find out all along.

So why was this forced admission making him so angry?

Finally, it was over. Dick sat there shaking. Somehow, that had been… oddly comforting, if not torturous, barbaric, and completely unnecessary.

"Please say something," Dick begged as the first of many healing tears made its way down his face.

"You know, I knew something was wrong with you," said Clark. There was a kind of humorless laugh in his voice as he spoke. "I've known it for months. Of course, it's obvious _now_, but I never for even a second _considered_ that you were capable of doing something like this. And we all let you get away with it."

"Clark… geez… don't do this to yourself, okay?" Dick pleaded softly, suddenly feeling weary. "My problems aren't your fault. Don't do this to yourself."

"And now _you_ say 'don't do this to yourself'. You, after months of torturing yourself—"

"Look, I know you're angry with me, and I can't say not to be because I'm angry with me, too. So go ahead, yell all you want! I deserve it! But…"

Dick's voice became quiet again, and his lower lip began to tremble slightly.

"Once you're done yelling… can't you say 'I love you', too?"

They locked eyes for just a moment before Dick let out a choked sob and bowed his head, instantly ashamed of having let his mask slip. People weren't supposed to see that he was vulnerable; he was supposed to be perfect so everyone else could come to him with their troubles. _He_ wasn't supposed to have any troubles.

_He_ was supposed to be perfect.

Not begging.

Not crying.

Not vulnerable.

Yet somehow, he suddenly found himself letting Clark hug him and wipe the tears away. Letting Clark see how weak he was. Letting Clark feel how huge and disgusting this so-called Boy Wonder really was.

"I wasn't yelling at you, Dick, you misunderstood. And I'm not angry with you, either… but I do love you. Very, very much so."

Dick sniffled a little and whispered, "Thanks for that. I don't believe it, but thanks anyway." He quickly stifled the remainder of his tears, leaned out of his friend's embrace and said, "I don't know what to do anymore, Clark… please tell me what I should do. Just tell me what to do."

Clark was silent for a minute, and then he quietly replied, "Dick, I really think you should be the one who decides what to do."

The boy wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"I want to go home," he stated finally.

"You'll have to tell Bruce what you've been doing."

"…You're kidding, right?"

"Dick, you need _help_," Clark told him as gently as he could.

"Hey, it wasn't easy for me to tell you what I just did, and now you're insulting me?" Dick said, sounding a little angry. "Okay, that's it—you know what? I shouldn't have trusted you. Now you just think I'm crazy! I _knew_ this would happen!"

"I don't—"

"Forget it!"

Clark ran a hand through his hair in frustration as Dick got up and stalked past him, clearly offended. Apparently, the boy wasn't ready to admit he was sick or give up his destructive habits just yet. Indeed, Clark realized, Dick hadn't used the term 'eating disorder' once in his confessions.

He wished he could push the issue. After all, it was Dick's _life_ at stake here. But no, anorexia was a disease of the mind and soul as well as the body—and as far as Dick was concerned, he didn't _need _help.

The reporter stood and slowly walked to the window to stare at the city outside. The streetlights had just come on, and it looked like it had been a beautiful sunset. Below him, throngs of people were rushing home from work in the early-evening traffic. Others were hurrying out on a date to meet a friend or loved one at some nice spot like the park or—heaven forbid—the restaurant across the street. Clark thought it was nice scene. He vaguely wondered if Dick would be able to see it in the same light, or if he was so far gone that everything around him seemed just as dark and depressed as he felt on the inside.

The bedroom door opened behind him. Clark turned and saw Dick leaning against the doorframe, staring at him.

"I'm packed," the boy announced.

"…Oh," said Clark, somewhat surprised. He hadn't expected Dick to leave _tonight_. Tomorrow morning at the earliest. "Well… I'll just take you home then."

"I can go alone."

There was a short pause. Then Dick looked up and added, sounding suspiciously like he was trying to please someone, "I'll tell Bruce as soon as I can."

_Now where have I heard this before_, Clark thought. Only three weeks ago, he had given Dick seven days to straighten things out at home. Dick had promised to do so, only to end up breaking that promise seven days later. Of course, that was before Clark realized Dick was…

"Dick—" Clark started reluctantly, not wanting to upset the boy further.

"I know," Dick interrupted. "You don't trust me. That's okay. I understand. But I really need to tell Bruce in my own way, Clark. Gimme some time, okay? If you decide I'm taking too long, then go ahead and tell him yourself. Heck, tell Oprah on national television if you want. But give me this one last chance, okay? Please."

Against his better judgment, Clark finally nodded.

"Thanks. I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"No, please. Don't be sorry," Clark insisted. "In a way, I'm glad you did. At least you got to vent a little frustration while you were here. Makes me feel like I'm not _completely_ useless."

"…I guess I never thought of it like that," Dick muttered, almost shyly.

"I'll call you, alright?"

Dick nodded and picked up his suitcase, anxious to leave. The tension between them was palpable and almost painful. He hated being so edgy around friends, although that seemed to be happening a lot lately.

"Bye, kiddo."

Dick's lip quirked at the old nickname, remembering happier circumstances under which Clark had called him that. Like the first time they met, just about six years ago. Dick had only been eight years old when he'd had the rare honor of meeting his childhood hero: Superman. Bruce hadn't exactly been thrilled that day, but Dick had been absolutely euphoric.

Well. That was over now.

The doors closed behind him and the elevator began its descent to the ground floor of the apartment building. As soon as it hit bottom, Dick pulled out his cell phone and dialed Wayne Manor, just to call them and warn them that he was coming back.

"Hey, Alfred! Miss me yet?"

_Of course you don't, I know that, I'm not stupid… well, not completely… at least I'm smart enough to tell you don't care…_

"Yeah, I miss you, too, but guess what? I'm coming home tonight! Clark just signed the parole papers," Dick announced, putting a false cheeriness in his voice. Not that he could fool Alfred. Though, come to think of it… hadn't he been doing just that?

"I'll be there in a little while, Alfred. I just want to grab my costume and make a quick stop at the Tower to say hi to anybody who happens to be there, okay?"

Dick's phony smile turned down in a frown at the butler's next words.

"Yeah, it'll be good to see Bruce, too. See you soon, Alfred."

He'd hidden this for almost a year now, Dick thought with morbid pride as he snapped the phone shut and stuffed it back into his pants.

His pants.

The ones that happened to be about three sizes too big.

Only three? Well, he'd have to start working on that.

As soon as he convinced Clark that he _had _told Bruce, and that he _was_ getting better…

Whatever 'better' was.

But how was he supposed to pretend to _be _better if he had no idea what 'better' _was?_ Maybe he should start observing people more closely, see how they acted, and then adjust his behaviors just enough to make Clark proud of him.

But first, how to lower the size of his pants…?

---

"That's the silliest thing I ever heard!" Wonder Girl cried out indignantly. "Why would Batman wish to harm Robin? It doesn't make sense! We have to convince Superman that he's wrong!"

"I _tried_ that already," insisted Kid Flash. He sounded uncharacteristically tired. "He won't listen to me. That seems to be going around lately," he added, shooting everyone accusatory stares. Speedy rolled his eyes.

"If you're asking whether or not I think Wonder Breath is ramming a finger down his throat after each meal, then no, I don't," the archer grumbled.

"And you'd be right," added a voice from the doorway.

Everyone turned to see Robin leaning against the doorframe of the rec room, arms crossed… looking thinner than ever.

Robin laughed then. A hollow, empty sort of a laugh that raised eyebrows all around.

"Why in the world would I be—what was it? 'Ramming a finger down my throat'? What do you think I am? Nuts?"

"No. Bulimic," Speedy deadpanned.

Again, Robin laughed.

"Don't worry, guys, I'm not bulimic. Or anorexic. Or a compulsive overeater, or anything else except glad to be here."

_I hope that's true…_ Kid Flash thought as the Boy Wonder approached. For the first time, he noticed how much weight his friend had lost. And it wasn't all in body fat, either; a lot of it was muscle. Robin had always been extremely muscular, no doubt about that. But now the part of his arms that were visible between his gloves and shirtsleeves seemed impossibly bony, with a vein or two showing up near the surface of his gray-colored skin.

"Well what _are_ you doing here, anyway?" Aqualad wanted to know. "I thought Clark had forbidden you from coming here."

"He changed his mind. No big deal," Robin shrugged.

"Well we are very pleased to have you back," Wonder Girl assured him with a warm smile.

She reached over to put a welcoming hand on his jagged shoulder. Everyone tried not to react when Robin flinched from her touch, but an uncomfortable pause followed nevertheless.

Finally, Speedy spoke up.

"While we're all here anyway, can we hold a quick meeting? I have something to say," Green Arrow's sidekick requested.

"I guess we have a couple of minutes," Robin complied. "Okay, everybody, siddown."

"Should I get the other Titans?" asked Wonder Girl as she took her seat. "I believe I saw Cyborg and Beast Boy playing video games in the other room…"

"Naw, that's okay," Speedy told her. "We can inform them later.

"Well, we all know that Robin's performance as leader of the Titans has kinda stunk these past couple of months," Speedy started. The others glowered at the young archer's bluntness while Robin just said dangerously, "Get to the point."

"If you insist…"

Nothing could have prepared the Teen Titans for his next sentence:

"I propose that Wonder Boy be demoted until he gets his act together."

* * *

**MUAHAHAHAHA!! Evil cliffhanger!! XD**

**(cough) Anyway, for those of you who haven't heard, I'll be updating on Friday next week because Saturday we'll be in New York (pray it's nice weather that day, because we're going to the Bronx Zoo if it is!)**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**Boleyn-**And, once again, you are among the first to review! XD Thanks!

**steelelf-**LOL, you have a great way with words. Crash course, eh? Hmmm... (grabs chair to crash over Bruce's head) Ya think that'll work?

**kokomocalifornia-**Thank you. How do you like this one?

**YamiTenshi03-**Eeee, another new reviewer! (cheers) Anyway, thanks, and yes, I realize everyone would react differently to these disorders. This is just Robin's reaction :)

**QueenCaroline-**I'll assume you liked it, then. Hee hee...

**ShockMePeter-**Heh. I would, but my mom would think I'm nuts. Yeah! Someone needs to wake up and listen to Wally! They will soon, don't worry.

**Wiley Card-**I guess it _would_ have helped if Clark had correctly identified the problem. Which he didn't. Addiction? Uh-oh... um, well, here's another fix for you... ;-)

**xXxQuothxXx-**I like long reviews!! My gosh, that poor girl. You're right, that's horrible, but I _am_ glad that someone else has taken an interest in this serious issue :) (looks up 'wanker') Wow, you must really hate that guy, lol. By the way, I deleted that sentence from my profile, as requested.

**Lil' Kanny-**Yay, glad you liked! I'm going as fast as I can here--well, not really, the story is actually finished, I'm just posting one chapter at a time... hehe.

**SarahC4321-**Kid Flash tried to tell Clark something was wrong in the last chapter, but Clark's reaction was less than helpful. Never thought I'd say this... poor, poor Batman :(

**BatThing-**Kid Flash always did like cracking jokes, didn't he? Although I'm not really sure they did much good in that chapter, either...

**caltha-**(waves pennant with Wally's name on it) Yippee! Yes, Dick is definitely still the best, even though he's so sick at the moment. At least he is in MY world... (evil laughter)


	18. Reactions

**Super long chapter and an early update! HURRAY!! XD**

**Actually, I'm only updating early this week because I promised I would--our trip to New York has been postponed until Saturday the 24th because I had to go and get sick. XP So the next update will be on a Friday as well. Sorry for the confusion. I assure you, I didn't get sick on purpose.**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Seventeen: Reactions

The second Speedy said the words, chaos erupted in the Tower. Robin, Kid Flash, and Wonder Girl all leapt from their chairs and began to protest loudly. Only Aqualad remained seated, quietly watching the proceedings of his land-dwelling friends.

"Now wait just a minute!" was all Robin could say before Kid Flash jumped in.

"You've done some pretty rotten things in your day, Harper, but this is just about the lowest stunt you've ever pulled!" the speedster bellowed.

"I agree!" added Wonder Girl. "After all that Robin has done for the Titans, you have the nerve to suggest a terrible thing like that! How can you say such things?"

"I didn't say to fire him!" Speedy defended himself. Then he added, rather pointedly and almost cruelly, "All I'm saying is that somebody else should lead until Robby here doesn't look like a living skeleton."

That one statement was all it took to silence the Titans.

And once he saw that all eyes were on him, Speedy continued to list the reasons behind his proposal.

"We all know that Short Pants is more than capable of leading the Titans—when he's normal. But—as Kid Flash has so attentively pointed out to the rest of us—Robin's had a real bee in his bonnet lately. He's been making reckless decisions that would have gotten _me expelled_ long before now! So for the time being, I think it would be in everyone's best interest for Rob to just step aside until he's over this… phase or whatever it is."

Kid Flash could have screamed. The idiot! Didn't Speedy realize what he was doing? This _wasn't_ just a phase! Robin wouldn't get better if everyone kept ganging up on him this way! Taking away his job as leader would just deflate his ego more, and they couldn't afford that right now!

As Kid Flash tried to keep his temper under control, Robin continued to fight for himself.

"Oh, come on! We're not stupid! We know you've wanted to lead the Teen Titans ever since we teamed up! This is just another boneheaded stunt to get in ahead of me—and it's _not_ going to work!"

That was when Aqualad decided to enter the conversation. What he said did nothing to improve anyone's mood.

"I agree with Speedy," the Atlantean teenager admitted in a voice just barely loud enough to be heard.

"Garth!" gasped Wonder Girl.

"Shut up, Gillhead!" Kid Flash snarled. The last thing he needed was Aqualad complicating matters.

"Please, hear me out," said Aqualad, patiently holding up a gloved hand. "I am only thinking of Robin's health and well-being. He has been losing weight steadily, and this has impaired his abilities as a crime-fighter, which puts his own life in greater danger. I believe the best course of action would be to allow him ample time to become healthy again, and then restore him to his position as our leader."

Speedy smiled smugly at the shocked looks on Kid Flash and Wonder Girl's faces. Now that he had Aqualad on his side, Robin was not just out of the leader position but out of the Titans, period.

"What are you guys _talking_ about?" Robin snapped, obviously becoming panicky. "Don't let this jerk try to make you think I've got issues! He's lying! I'm _fine_, okay?!"

"Give it up, Batboy," Speedy retorted harshly. "Being as underweight as you are is hardly _'fine'!_"

"Underweight?! What's the _matter_ with all of you! Can't you see how big I am?!"

Wonder Girl was close to tears, and even Aqualad appeared startled. Kid Flash just shook his head sadly, wishing that Robin's tantrum had come as a surprise. Speedy was the only one who ignored the odd comment and continued to glare daggers at Robin.

"You're just trying to get me out of the team so you can take over!" Robin continued to argue, oblivious to the others' reaction to his shocking statement. "Well let me tell you something! If you think I'm gonna let _you_ lead the Titans—!"

Nobody saw the punch coming until Speedy had knocked Robin to the floor!

This was something he never could have done if Robin was in good health.

But Speedy just took it as another opportunity to sell his case.

"There, you see?! This proves my point!" the young archer insisted.

"Speedy, please!" Wonder Girl hissed. "Not now!"

She promptly knelt down beside Robin and helped the young crime-fighter sit up. He was still rubbing his jaw, looking dazed. Speedy rolled his eyes at what he considered to be an elaborate display on Robin's part.

"He's just trying to get attention. Just ignore him…"

"Haven't you done enough, Harper?" Kid Flash barked.

"I think it would be best to continue this meeting tomorrow and make our decisions then," Aqualad suggested, somewhat hastily. "That way we will get some of the others' opinions on this matter as well."

"Fine by me!" Speedy snapped.

He was out of the room before anyone could stop him. Aqualad went after the archer to try to calm him down. Wonder Girl and Kid Flash stayed behind to help Robin.

"Are you alright, Dick?" asked Wonder Girl softly. She took one of his arms to help him back to his chair.

"I _told_ you. I'm _fine._"

Robin yanked his arm away from her and crossed his arms on the table in front of him, scowling at nothing. Kid Flash sighed as he recognized the signs—this behavior generally meant that Robin was about to withdraw into major sulking mode. It didn't happen often, but when it did…

"Just ignore that jerk, Rob," Kid Flash said. He hoped he sounded reassuring. "We're not gonna let him do anything."

"That's right," agreed Wonder Girl added, placing a gentle hand on Robin's forearm only to be rejected once again.

"You don't mean that," Robin told them, almost harshly.

"Yes we—"

"No."

Robin sighed and bowed his head a little, looking defeated for the first time Kid Flash could ever remember.

"No, you don't. Pretty soon you guys are going to abandon me, too… just like everybody else…"

Kid Flash bit his lip hard.

This was more serious than he'd thought.

---

"…Still, you should have been easier on Robin," Aqualad sighed. He had followed Speedy to the junior bowman's room in the Tower. Speedy hadn't been doing much, just practicing shooting. Not that he really needed to, Aqualad mused.

"I thought you agreed with me," Speedy said, puzzled. Aqualad could tell he was only half-listening.

"I do. I believe that Robin is too ill to continue as a Titan and even as a crime-fighter. But the way you said it was the wrong way to tell him. Eating disorders are delicate matters, Speedy—"

"Not you, too! Come on, Gillhead, only girls get eating disorders."

Aqualad crossed his arms and glared at Speedy, angered by the other boy's sheer ignorance. Even _he _knew that wasn't true. Heck, even _Wally_ knew that wasn't true! So what was Roy's problem?

Aqualad just shook his head and left the room to update Beast Boy and Cyborg on the situation. Speedy watched him go, thoroughly confused.

Well, they'd see. They'd come to their senses soon enough. Robin was as good as fired as it was. They'd see…

---

"_HE DID WHAT?!_"

Aqualad cringed at Beast Boy and Cyborg's incredibly loud reaction to the news of Speedy's proposal.

"He wants to _fire_ Robin?" Beast Boy went on. He dropped his gamepad, letting the now-forgotten video game play on in the background. "But he can't just, like, _fire_ Robin… can he?"

"I think he stands a good chance," Aqualad said carefully. "We will be holding a vote tomorrow morning to determine Robin's future with the Titans… I suggest you think very carefully before submitting your votes."

"I don't need to think!" insisted Beast Boy. "There's no way we're gonna help Speedy do this to Robin! Am I right, Cy, or am I right?"

"Well, actually—"

"'Well actually'?!" Beast Boy yelped in surprise, once again prompting Aqualad to cover his ears. "What 'well actually'?!"

Instantly on the defensive about his decision, Cyborg insisted, "_Well, actually_, in case you haven't noticed, Robin hasn't been looking too good lately. He looks like he could use a break. I know Speedy isn't exactly the brightest of people most of the time, but in this case, I have to agree with him."

"My sentiments exactly," Aqualad agreed with a nod.

Beast Boy glared at the two of them as if they'd lost their minds. Which, at least as far as he was concerned, they had.

"I can't believe you guys!" he cried. "Did Quiver Breath have you all brainwashed or something?"

"Hey, don't act like we _want_ to do this," Cyborg shot back. "We just don't have a choice anymore. Maybe if we had tried to do something sooner…"

"You're right," Beast Boy interrupted. "We_ don't_ have a choice, but if you ask me, the only choice we have is to stop Speedy from doing this. If we don't, what kind of friends would Robin think we are, anyway? He's stood up for every one of us ever since we joined the group! We can't repay him by kicking him out!"

"Now wait just a second, BB…!"

Aqualad's sigh went unnoticed as the two usually-good friends continued to argue. This whole thing had just started out with Kid Flash's concern over Robin's health. Now look. If this kept up, the Titans would all be at each other's throats within days. And he'd heard from Arthur that the League was in a similar, if not less hostile, state.

Aqualad walked away, leaving his fellow heroes and the flashing 'Game Over' screen behind.

---

Donna was perfectly silent as she sat near the shores of Paradise Island, remembering all that had transpired in the Tower earlier. Everything about that afternoon had disturbed her tremendously, but there was one thing that stuck out in her mind and refused to leave her alone:

_"Can't you see how big I am?!"_

The haunting words rang in her head over and over again. What had Robin meant by that, she wondered? Donna tried to think of all the things about Robin that could be considered 'big'.

His_ mind_ was pretty big—as hard as Donna tried, she couldn't think of a more intelligent human being, with the possible exception of the Batman. Robby was always studying, always trying to improve his mind in order to be a greater asset to his senior partner and the Titans. Not that he wasn't one terrific asset already…

Which brought her to the second thing—big _talent. _She could tell from the expressions on other peoples' faces as they watched Robin that they were trying to figure out whether he was just an acrobat or if he was really flying. 'Boy Wonder' was certainly an appropriate moniker, she reflected. He was so good at what he did, and Donna was proud to know him just for that.

Big _personality_. Whether as Robin or as Dick, he was always making people laugh, making people happy. Okay, so his puns and old jokes were pretty lousy, which Speedy always felt the need to point out. But, whether you included the jokes or not, Robin was a very popular person both at the Tower and the Watchtower. Donna remembered that he had won over the Justice League the very first time he had met them and was the first of the sidekicks to receive an 'open invitation' to visit the Watchtower whenever he wanted. He had been so proud that day…

And last, but by no means least, Robin certainly had a big _heart._ If Donna was feeling sad about something, she knew she could count on Robby to talk to, to ask for advice, to cheer her up, even to hug once in a while when she was depressed enough. And he was always making sure that he took the most dangerous risks, and that the other Titans stayed as safe as could be expected while hunting for criminals. Robin just cared so much about people…

Donna furrowed her brow in concentration. That was her list, alright, but none of the things on it could possibly have sent Robin into such a panic at the Tower. After all, these were all good things… what about him was so bad? Donna just couldn't see it. In her eyes, and in the eyes of America, the Boy Wonder was almost too good to be true.

What about him could possibly be bad?

Donna just didn't understand…

---

Wally sat in the living room, just staring out the window. He didn't know what to do. The Titans were completely falling apart because of Robin's disorder, and Speedy's little announcement earlier hadn't helped any.

On the one hand, Wally felt like punching Speedy's lights out for saying what he had. How could he be so blind to this whole situation? Anybody could tell that Robin wasn't putting on a sympathy act—there was something _wrong_ with the guy! And essentially firing him from his own team wasn't the way to help him! Robin had some serious issues to work out, and it was up to his friends and family to support him and get him through it—not kick him out!

But, on the other hand, Wally felt a twinge of guilt as he agreed with Roy.

Wait a minute! Why was he feeling guilty? Robin was too sick to fight properly, make good decisions… and his dizzy spells had been getting more common and more serious over the past few weeks. Temporarily putting him in 'reserve' may be the only way to save his life at this point! Besides, if Robin saw that they were serious enough to actually expel him, then he might reconsider his habits and seek help…

Who was he kidding? Robin was even more stubborn than Speedy! He'd never admit he had a problem; if he did indeed turn out to have an eating disorder (which was looking pretty darn probable at the moment), the Titans would have to push him into therapy. Maybe even literally.

Wally sighed and buried his face in his folded arms. How had things gotten this messy, anyway? He'd rather go up against a major super villain—ANY of them!—without the aid of his super speed than have to deal with Robin's anorexia…

_Was_ it anorexia, even? Maybe he had bulimia? Maybe _both? _There was even the slim possibility that he had _neither!_

He sighed again. How was he supposed to help Dick if he didn't even know what his problem was? Some friend he was turning out to be. Especially because it was his fault that this catastrophe had started in the first place—that stupid comment about Dick's weight in the Watchtower! If only he hadn't felt the need to get in one last joke for the evening. If only he had kept his big fat mouth shut so that his foot couldn't get stuck in it for the millionth time…

_You really screwed up this time, West… nice going…_

Well, anyway, the problem now was to figure out what to do about Dick. Both Speedy and Aqualad had made it perfectly clear that they thought Robin should be temporarily booted from the Titans, while Robin and Wonder Girl were equally adamant in saying that he should stay. And if he knew the other Titans as well as he thought he did, then Raven and Cyborg would be siding with Speedy. Starfire would defend Robin's right to lead, and Beast Boy probably would, too. None of them would change their minds, ever.

So now it was up to him. Should Robin remain with the Titans, or be forced into a vacation he didn't want to take?

_Why me…?_

"Wally?"

The red-head snapped to attention at the sound of his uncle's voice in the doorway.

"You okay, kiddo?"

"I'm fine."

_Great, now I'm sounding like Robin. AND I just lied to Uncle Barry._

But, in spite of the little lie, Barry could tell that his nephew was hiding something. It wasn't like the boy to sit still for more than about five minutes, and it was even more unusual for him to be in such low spirits. Something was definitely wrong, and he felt it was his job to figure out what it was. Maybe he could help.

Barry sat down on the couch next to Wally.

"Want to talk about it?"

Wally blinked. Oh, great. Busted.

"It's just that _case_ again," the boy sighed.

"Are you still working on that?" Barry asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "I would have thought that you and the Titans would have had that case solved by now."

"Yeah, well… it's an especially tough case, Uncle Barry."

"It must be! You've been working a bit too hard on this case, though, haven't you? I mean, you've been obsessing over it for…"

Barry let his sentence go unfinished as he noticed the expression on the boy's face. As soon as he had begun seriously discussing this 'case', Wally looked as if he had just been reminded of something he'd been trying to forget.

The two sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment before Wally spoke up, his voice exceptionally small, "Uncle Barry? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Wally. What is it?" replied Barry, his voice gentle.

Wally took a deep, shuddering breath and slowly explained, "Let's say you've got… this friend… who's in trouble, and there are only two ways to help him. The first way would make this friend happy, but you're not so sure that that's the right way to go about helping him—or her! And even though you know your friend will hate your guts forever if you go with the second way, you can't help but feel like that's the right choice… you know what I mean?"

"I think so," Barry said with a nod.

"So… if this happened to you… what would you do?"

Barry sighed. What could he tell his nephew that wasn't cliché?

"How bad is 'this friend' of mine's trouble?"

"Pretty bad…"

"'Life-or-death' bad?"

"I… I think so…" Wally whispered. Tears began to pool in his vivid green eyes, and Barry knew that this was not the harmless hypothetical situation the boy had tried to make it out to be.

"Well, if this friend's trouble is that bad, then I… _believe_ the best course of action would be to do whatever you can to help him—or her."

"Even if he'll hate you forever?"

"Wally, if this friend means as much to you as he seems to… then losing his friendship will be worth saving his life."

Wally nodded.

---

Dick paced his room until he could no longer stand up. That was when he collapsed onto his bed, breathing heavily, and tried to sort things out.

That idiot Roy! What did he know?! He just wanted Robin out of the way so that Speedy could take over the Titans!

And the others were just as bad, Dick decided darkly. Kid Flash, Wonder Girl, Aqualad… all of them. Pretending to care. They didn't care about him at all… terrific actors… the lot of them…

Dick could see it all now. They were just _pretending_ to be worried about his health—_saying _he was underweight when he _knew_ he wasn't—as an excuse to get him out of the Titans. And who could blame them? Why would they want a person like _him_ in the group, anyway? Why they even let him into the Titans in the first place was beyond him—what had they ever seen in a fat, ugly, disgusting…

Almost quicker than the eye could follow, Dick was out of his room, down the stairs, and in the kitchen. He flung the cabinet door open and grabbed a box of crackers…

---

The next morning, most of the Teen Titans were gathered at the Tower to determine the fate of their group.

Only two members were missing.

One of the missing members was Starfire.

She was preoccupied elsewhere and had been unable to attend the all-important meeting. She had, however, recently been in contact with the Titans and had given Raven her opinion so she could vote for her. Actually, what had gone on between those two over the communicator was very much like what Aqualad had witnessed in the rec room with Cyborg and Beast Boy, who still weren't speaking to each other.

The other missing member was Robin.

He was late.

"He would have been here already if he were up to the task of being leader," Speedy mumbled under his breath.

Kid Flash clenched his fists and kept silent. He knew Speedy was right, but he still hated to admit it.

Five minutes passed, yet still Robin did not show up. Kid Flash stood up and began pacing at super speed, more than just a little worried. Robin knew there was a meeting today… so where the heck was he?

"I say we call the meeting to order and fill Batboy in on the details later!" Speedy suggested impatiently.

"No, you can't!" insisted Wonder Girl. "Robin is our leader!"

"Not for long!"

Kid Flash bit his lip, hoping nobody would ask him whether he'd be voting for Robin's dismissal or not. But they all remained silent and waited another five minutes for the Titans' leader.

Finally, Robin made an appearance.

Without a word, the Boy Wonder straightened the collar of his cape and slowly took his seat, looking as if he hadn't slept at all that night. Speedy knew his case was now stronger than ever.

"As I recall, in the last meeting, we were deciding whether or not I should be… indefinitely expelled from the Titans," Robin began, his voice scratchy and rough.

"Yeah, and I said you most definitely should."

"I _remember_ that, Speedy. _Thank_ you."

"And I wanted him to stay," Wonder Girl argued, her normally pretty face scrunched up in a scowl aimed at Speedy.

"Alright then, Titans," said Robin. "Let's vote. We all know what Wonder Girl, Speedy, and I say. How about the rest of… where's Starfire?"

"We sent her to take care of the aliens that landed in Canada last night," Aqualad reminded him, keeping his tone as gentle as he could. He _had_ called Dick about that, but apparently, he'd forgotten.

Before Speedy could comment on the memory lapse, Raven jumped in, "I received her vote via communicator. She says that she agrees with you… unfortunately, I have to agree with Speedy. Sorry, Robin."

Ignoring her, Robin went on, "Alright then. How about the rest of you?"

There was a moment of silence as Robin's blue eyes scanned each of his teammates, as if he could figure out their votes just by looking at them.

"Don't worry, Rob. I'm with you," Beast Boy jumped in, glowering at Cyborg. Robin quirked an eyebrow at the aggressiveness in the changeling's attitude towards his best friend. But he could hazard a guess as to what caused the hostility when Cyborg voted with Speedy while shooting dark looks at Beast Boy from across the table.

"Aqualad?"

"I agree with Speedy," Aqualad decided, just as he had the night before.

"Kid Flash?"

The teenaged speedster glanced up. Robin's face was perfectly solemn, but Kid Flash could tell from the expression in his eyes that he was counting on him.

He hated to think of what Robin would do when he heard his decision. He'd rehearsed what to say to the Titans for hours that night, but now that he was actually here, the words flew from his mind, leaving him speechless.

"I… I think maybe you should…"

Kid Flash didn't even need to finish his sentence. The expressions on everyone's faces showed that they understood what he was trying to say. Wonder Girl and Beast Boy stared at Kid Flash in horror, Aqualad and Raven gazed unhappily at the table, Cyborg sat back with a sigh of resignation, and Speedy watched the proceedings with a grin of smug satisfaction on his face.

But Robin was one person that Kid Flash couldn't bear to look at.

It wasn't that he was glowering at anyone. He didn't look as if he was about to punch anyone or even throw another tantrum.

It was the fact that he _wasn't_ showing any emotions that really got to him.

Robin stared at Kid Flash, his raging emotions perfectly hidden, and said tersely, as if speaking was difficult, "Alright. After the vote… the majority says I should be… expelled… from the Titans. I will not contest this decision. I'll just… go quietly… and let you decide who should take my place… good luck, Titans."

It was not spoken sarcastically or spitefully. It was the sincere last wish from one friend to another. It reminded Aqualad of an army general giving his soldiers one last bit of heartfelt advice before letting someone else take command.

Robin rose from his chair and silently left the room for what everyone knew would be the last time.

As soon as Robin was gone, Kid Flash turned to glower at Speedy.

"I hope you're satisfied, Arrow Brains, now that you've just kicked your best friend out of the Titans!"

"Don't blame me—I couldn't have done it with your help, Twinkletoes."

"Yes," Wonder Girl added, glaring daggers at Kid Flash. In an imploring tone, she asked, "Why did you do it, Wally? I thought you agreed with Robin and me!"

"I _did_, but…"

"Then why did you change your mind?!" hollered Beast Boy.

"Leave him alone! It was the only thing we could do!" Cyborg broke in.

"I did it because I had to, okay?!" Kid Flash yelled. Everyone sat back, stunned by the anger in his voice. "Look, Gillhead is right—Robin's in no condition to even be out crime-fighting at all, let alone lead the Titans! Voting him out of the group was the only way to save his life, whether we like it or not!… I'm gonna go talk to Robin."

Without waiting for a response, Kid Flash left the room.

Wonder Girl excused herself not long after that. She had decided it was high-time to bring the Justice League into this.

---

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the Titans, the Justice League of America was already discussing just what should be done about 'the Robin situation'.

The Man of Steel kept his promise to the Boy Wonder; he didn't say anything about the boy's self-destructive behaviors. Instead, he simply stated that he'd let Dick return home. Then he officially began the meeting by saying, "Batman, why you even let that boy continue with his crime-fighting activities is a mystery to me. We tried to respect your privacy concerning Robin, but it's been several months since this whole thing started, and I'm not ashamed to admit that this has had me worried from the beginning."

"I'm with Superman on this one," Green Lantern added. "Why don't you just stop him from going out on patrol with you until he's up to a healthy weight again?"

"I've tried that in the past," Batman explained as patiently as could be expected. "He simply ignores my orders and goes out on his own, usually coming back with an injury of some kind."

"Have you tried chaining him to a chair? That's what I do whenever I don't want Speedy out on patrol."

"This is serious, Arrow!" Flash snapped as he glowered disapprovingly at the Star City archer. "I agree with Superman. We have to do something before that boy gets himself killed by trying too hard."

"Finding out what the problem is might help," Wonder Woman suggested. "The weight loss obviously indicates that he hasn't been eating, and judging by his past behavior, Robin does not eat when he is unhappy. Although, just before the weight loss, I did notice that Robin tended to deal with his problems by _over_eating..."

"So something's bugging the kid," GA said with a shrug. "Kids go through these phases all the time. It'll probably pass soon enough… _what?_"

The rest of the League was looking daggers at him, and Green Arrow decided it would be in his best interest to shut his mouth right about then.

"Now I know why Wally thinks Roy is such a jerk," the Flash muttered to no-one in particular.

Before the debate could continue, Wonder Girl burst into the room. She hadn't even bothered to knock or tell anyone that she was going to pay a visit to the Watchtower.

"Donna…?" Wonder Woman began in confusion.

"Diana! Please, you must come with me—you must help me, please!" the girl gasped.

"Whoa, calm down there, little princess!" Green Arrow exclaimed. "Where's the fire?"

"There is no fire!" insisted Wonder Girl, a little exasperated. How could anyone stand that man? "It's about Robin! He… Speedy fired him!"

"_Fired_ him?" Superman repeated.

"Yes! He said that he didn't want Robin leading the Titans, and Kid Flash agreed with him and expelled him from the Titans! Please, Diana, come with me—_talk_ to the Titans! Make them change their minds, _please!_"

Wonder Girl was in tears by the end of her speech, so her sister reached over and held her close for a minute. And by the time Wonder Woman released her younger sibling, Batman was already standing, ready for action. Everyone thought he'd ask where Speedy was and then go to scare the spandex off him. Instead, he ground out, _"Where's Robin?"_

Wonder Girl stared at him a moment, frightened by his attitude.

_Don't be such a coward, Donna!_

"I… I don't know," she stammered at last. "He left without telling us where he was going… b-but Wally said he was going to talk to him. I assumed that Wally knew where Robin was."

And without another word, Batman left the room.

---

"C'mon, Robin! Just… _talk_ to me, will ya? _Yell _at me, for crying out loud, just _say_ something! You're scarin' the heck outta me!"

But Robin didn't talk, didn't even look at him as he continued packing. Now that he was no longer a member of the Titans, he was clearing out his room in the Tower. His spare clothes, his extra costume, his books, his CDs, the first-aid kit that Alfred had insisted on… all of it was being thrown haphazardly into an old cardboard box he'd dug up out of the storage closet.

Kid Flash was following him around the room as he collected his things, trying desperately to 'make contact' with the former leader of the Titans. But since begging wasn't working, he decided to try something else.

"Look, Rob, I know you're mad at me. And you're probably thinking I sold you out, but you have absolutely no idea how hard it was to vote against you back there…!"

"Save it, Twinkletoes, I don't want to hear it!"

Well, at least he _talked_.

"You lied to me, Kid Flash," Robin said. There was no anger in his voice any more. Just deep, deep sorrow. "You said you'd stand by me. You said you were my friend… but you lied. Just like everybody else."

"_No,_ Robin…! Aw, c'mon, it's not like that!" Kid Flash slapped a thigh in frustration. He was back to begging, and he didn't care at all. "I _had_ to vote with Speedy… even if he _is _the biggest twerp on the planet."

"_Why?_"

Kid Flash just stared. He couldn't answer that question. What was he supposed to say? _"I voted you out because you've got a stinkin' eating disorder and I was trying to save your life because you're my best friend and I care about you."_ Yeah, right.

Robin shook his head, disgusted by the other boy's silence.

"That's what I thought. You… lied…"

This last was spoken in a faint whisper, and Robin soon found himself the victim of another dizzy spell. He leaned heavily against the desk and squeezed his eyes shut tight. A single tear escaped from the corner of his eye and soaked a small part of his mask as he tried desperately to get the vertigo under control.

Kid Flash, seeing that his friend was in distress, went up to the shorter boy without hesitation and gently placed his hands on Robin's shoulders.

"Relax, pal. You're gonna be okay…"

"Get _away_ from me."

Kid Flash blinked and slowly backed up a few steps. He hated to admit it, but Robin's harsh words had really stung.

Robin didn't even notice.

The Boy Wonder just threw one last thing into the box, picked it up, and started to storm from the room. Kid Flash followed.

"Rob, wait…!"

Neither got very far before running into the tall, imposing figure in the doorway. Kid Flash was stunned into speechlessness, and Robin didn't even get the chance to open his mouth before the Dark Knight observed, "So it's true."

Both boys instinctively knew what he was talking about.

"Yes," Robin muttered shortly, glaring at the box in his hands. "It's true."

"Listen, Batman, it _wasn't_ my idea to fire Robin. I didn't even _want—_"

One look from the Caped Crusader was enough to shut Kid Flash's mouth. He gulped and sat down on Robin's perfectly-made bed, not daring to say another word.

Then, turning back to his sidekick, Batman almost growled, "Why?"

Glaring up at his mentor, Robin replied steadily, "That's something you'll have to ask Kid Flash."

Robin brushed past Batman in a bold act of defiance and strode out of the room with his things, never stopping, never looking back.

For whatever reason, Batman decided to take the boy's advice for a change. So he turned back to Kid Flash and asked him why Robin had been expelled from the group that he had helped to create. All he needed to say was that one little word to strike fear into Wally's heart:

"_Why?_"

And suddenly, the fear was gone! Instead, Kid Flash felt the inexplicable urge to _yell_ at the man before him. To yell and shout and knock some sense into his thick skull and wooden heart, to make him realize just how much his own ward was hurting inside, how much his boy wanted and needed him at that very moment!

But he didn't. Kid Flash may have been angry, but he wasn't stupid.

"Because we don't feel that Robin's been pulling his weight lately," he said simply. "N-Not that Robin's a bad crime-fighter or anything! We just think he oughtta focus more on his duties in Gotham City, that's all."

Batman stared at Kid Flash for a minute longer, until the young speedster had to look away. The boy could feel his face turning as red as his costume, and he kept wishing that Batman would just _leave_ already so he could sulk in peace.

At long last, the Dark Knight made an agonizingly slow turn and left the room.

Kid Flash let out his breath and collapsed backwards on the bed, feeling shaky. He had just spent more time with Batman in those past five minutes than he had in a year, and he hadn't liked it at all.

_It's over, West, he's gone… just take it easy…_

* * *

**Sorry if Donna's section seemed a little cheesy. I was trying to make a point. Meanwhile, has anybody noticed that Wonder Girl and Starfire are practically the same person? They're both alien princesses with super strength and can fly. Hm.**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**JLAfan-**All that's coming up really soon, I promise! But first, we need to take a little peek into Batman's mind... that's next chapter.

**steelelf-**Yeah... (puts chair down) You really think so? Thanks! I loved writing that scene... Oh! And for your review for "Children of the Night", the reason I had Bruce not liking the name Jack is because that's the Joker's real name :)

**ShockMePeter-**Oh, Batman finds out. _Boy,_ does he find out. LOL, I'll be sure to bring you something when I come back from New York next week. Consider it a bonus for reviewing.

**caltha-**I do believe that's the second time you've kicked Speedy, um, 'where it hurts'. Well, I can't really blame you... oh, hint: things get worse before they get better... muahaha...

**SparklesPlenty-**Clark probably should have said something, but he's Superman, remember? Superman doesn't break promises. But I'm SO glad you like their conversation!! XD

**Boleyn-**Well, apparently, yes they can. They just did. (sigh) Well, they meant well, I suppose.

**SarahC4321-**Wow. Really? I don't think I've ever had worshippers before. At least not in this life. That's so cool! Thanks!

**CrazyInsomaniac-**Yes. In his own warped way, I guess Speedy is just saying "I'm worried about you". Too bad it comes out as "You're fired!" Speedy makes up for it later, though...

**State of Matter-**Thanks! You (and Aqualad) made a very good point. Speedy probably just did the worst possible thing for poor Robbie... (slaps Speedy) He deserves it!

**Gohanzgirl-**I don't usually do cliffhangers, actually, I don't know what got into me. Anyway, I'm glad you like it!

**The BatThing-**I'll tell you this--Batman finds out in either this chapter or the next one. Wally does one last investigation. Robin gets beat up. There. Now you won't die of asphyxiation before the ending. ;-)

**Agena K.-**Thank you so much for the kind words! I really appreciate it.


	19. The Beginning of the End

**Another long one, hee hee :) Oh, and we just got the news--next month we're goin' to DISNEYWORLD!! XD Okay, so we were there less than a year ago. Who cares?! That has got to be the best vacation spot ever invented. Besides, if I can coax my Muses out of hiding, a sequel to "Disneyworld Vacation" might be in order...**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Eighteen: The Beginning of the End

Meanwhile, both Batman and Robin had returned to the Cave. Since Batman hadn't gotten a very straight response from the Flash's sidekick, he was now asking his own what had occurred at the Tower. But Robin wasn't willing to comply.

"I told you to ask Wally—I don't want to talk about it," the boy insisted in a snappish tone.

"Wally doesn't want to talk about it, either, apparently."

"Then ask Garth or Donna or anybody else you want! Just don't ask me!"

"Don't speak to me in that tone."

"I'll speak any way I want to! Believe it or not, I've got rights, too!"

Batman stood there staring at Robin, stunned by what he was hearing. Alright, so the boy hadn't been on his best behavior lately… but he had never acted this way before. Where was this aggression coming from, he wondered? He'd never had to deal with this—what was he supposed to _say_ to a rebellious teenager, anyway?

"We'll discuss this later," he finally said.

That only made everything worse.

"You just don't _get _it, do you?" Robin retorted hotly, following his mentor to the changing room. He felt this burning need to keep the argument going. He was sick and tired of losing fights to Batman, and this was one fight that he was determined to win. "I don't _want_ to discuss this—not now, not _ever!_"

"Then perhaps you'd care to discuss why you lied about your belt being broken."

It was Robin's turn to be shocked as Batman held up the belt for him to see. As the Boy Wonder already knew, it was perfectly intact.

"I… I told you I'd fix it…"

"You and I both know it was never broken."

Robin crossed his arms stubbornly.

"I don't have to answer that," he declared. "I'm going upstairs."

Batman watched the boy cross the room before calling out in a low tone, "How long will the lies last, Robin?"

Robin stopped dead in his tracks, speechless, his feet feeling like they were frozen to the floor. His heart skipped several beats. Did Batman know? Had he or Alfred finally put the pieces together and come up with the answer?

But Batman's next sentence shot down all of these hopes:

"I know you've been keeping something from me."

Robin felt his shoulders slump a bit. They didn't know? It was still his secret? Well… good.

Without turning around, Robin answered, "_You're_ the World's Greatest Detective. _You _figure it out."

This time, Batman didn't bother to stop the boy from leaving the room. Instead, he gazed silently at the belt in his hands, marveling at how small it was. He knew Robin was still quite small for his age—and still waiting for that growth spurt that would help him catch up with every other fourteen-year-old. But he'd never noticed quite how little he was until he took a good look at that belt.

Was he really _that_ thin? He'd noticed the weight loss, of course, but it seemed impossible that Robin would be able to comfortably squeeze into the belt as it was now. It wasn't just _impossible_, actually it was _ridiculous_.

Something suddenly occurred to him—something, he realized, that he should have noticed a long time ago. He had all but forgotten that the belt was adjustable, but now that he looked at it, he remembered…

---

_Dick was excited—a little **too** excited, Bruce decided as he and the nine-year-old walked downstairs to the Cave. Well, Bruce was walking, Dick was bouncing._

_"I'd appreciate it if you'd calm down a little," Bruce growled._

_"But my costume's finished!" the boy exclaimed._

_"I know. I told you."_

_"Aw, why'd ya hafta be such a grump? You take the fun out of everything," Dick whined. In spite of the complaint, his smile didn't fade a bit as he skipped down the remaining stairs, only a few steps behind his mentor._

_Alfred, who had been waiting in the Batcave for his young charges, tried to suppress a smile at the sound of Dick's high-pitched whining. It was kind of nice having a happy child around the house again._

_"Please no whining, Master Dick. It is quite unbecoming of young gentlemen such as yourself," Alfred rebuked gently._

_"**Gentlemen**?!" Dick repeated, wrinkling up his nose in disgust._

_"Yes, **gentlemen**," Bruce said. He sounded like he was trying not to laugh. Dick instantly picked up on this and was about to tease Bruce about it, but then he saw that Bruce was handing him a neatly-folded set of brightly-colored clothes._

_"My costume!"_

_Dick had never seen it before, of course, but he had helped to design it. And he had specifically asked for something bright._

_"Yeah, not like yours," he had instructed with a giggle._

_"Does it meet with your approval, Master Dick?" Alfred questioned as they watched the boy marvel at his new outfit. Dick sat down on a nearby table and was rapidly examining his costume one piece a time—first the green elf shoes, then the gleaming yellow cape, then the brilliant red vest…_

_"What's that?" the boy queried. He was pointing at a spot on the left side of the vest, the only spot that wasn't red or yellow._

_"You asked for an insignia. You got one," explained Bruce._

_"But it's just an 'R'," Dick objected. "What if somebody thinks it stands for 'ridiculous' instead of 'Robin'?"_

_"What did you want, a giant bird across your chest?"_

_"Well no… I guess it's okay… but if anybody teases me about it, it's your fault. Can I put it on now?"_

_"Go ahead… wait a moment!"_

_Dick stopped and turned. Bruce was reaching behind a nearby computer for something. Finally, he found what he was looking for and handed it to Dick._

_It was a black belt with a gold buckle in front._

_"My utility belt?" Dick asked with a proud smile. Bruce just nodded and watched as the boy raced into the changing room to try on his costume. He was back in under a minute, still holding the belt. He looked a little disappointed._

_"The belt is too big," he said unhappily._

_"Don't worry. It's adjustable. Here, watch."_

_Taking the belt from Dick's gloved hands, Bruce demonstrated how to tighten the belt._

_"Alfred suggested we make it this way on purpose," Bruce spoke as he worked. "That way we only have to adjust it as you grow instead of making a new one. It's too bad we couldn't figure out a way to do that with the rest of the costume, especially those shoes. But I suspect you won't be wanting shoes like that in a few years anyhow."_

_"I will so! Why wouldn't I?!" Dick cried indignantly, looking down to admire his new footwear once more. "They're cool!"_

_"We'll see."_

_Bruce finished adjusting the belt so that it was as small as he could get it. He handed it back to the boy, who snapped it on with ease._

_"There! How do I look?"_

_"Superb, Master Dick."_

_"Like a traffic light."_

_"Good! You think any crooks we find will stop if they see the red?"_

_"I doubt it," Bruce answered, seemingly oblivious to the boy's attempt at humor. Alfred sighed inwardly. How did that man manage to keep a straight face through all of Dick's antics?_

_"I still think you should have chosen a darker color," Bruce muttered, eyeing the costume critically._

_"You're kidding, right?" was Dick's response. "Gotham City is dark enough without me adding to it. Besides, superheroes are **supposed** to have colorful costumes… like Superman!"_

_Dick smiled brightly, not noticing the look that had just crossed Bruce's face…_

_---_

Batman looked down at Dick's belt, still turning it over in his hands. Yes, the belt was now as small as it could be, just the way it had been when Dick first received it over five years ago. It just didn't seem possible…

Had Dick lost _that _much weight? He hadn't thought Dick was that underweight because his belt always seemed to fit perfectly.

Until recently.

If only he'd remembered about the belt being adjustable!

_If only…_

Then, all of a sudden, it hit him.

He knew the answer behind the mysterious weight loss. He knew the reason behind Robin's continuous lies. He knew why the boy had had to adjust the belt so drastically.

He _knew_.

---

Kid Flash stared at the phone in the Tower, paced in front of it a little, and stopped to stare at it once again. He had finally come up with the final phase of his plan to prove that Dick was indeed suffering from an eating disorder.

Now he just had to get up the guts to go through with it.

Finally, using his super speed so it would be harder to chicken out, he picked up the phone and dialed the number.

"Wayne residence," came Alfred's proper greeting.

"Hello, Alfred? Yeah, this is Kid Flash."

Alfred inwardly raised an eyebrow. Why was Kid Flash calling the manor instead of Wally West?

"What seems to be the problem, sir?" were the first words out of the butler's mouth.

"Um, well, I kind of have a favor to ask you. I was hoping that you'd be able to, uh… turn off the manor security for a bit?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Look, Alfred, please don't ask me any questions," the boy begged, trying not to sound as desperate as he was. "All I can say is that it's got to do with Dick. Alfred, I think he's in trouble and this is the only way I can do anything about it!"

Alfred was silent for a moment. He hated to admit it, but he was beginning to feel a little nervous just by listening to Wally's voice.

He knew he shouldn't do it. He should force the boy to tell him what was the matter with young Master Dick. Of course Alfred had noticed that Master Dick had been acting very oddly: not taking his meals, the mood swings, and the alarming rate at which he had been shedding pounds—pounds he certainly couldn't afford to lose.

He knew he should ask if this had anything to do with those behaviors.

But Kid Flash was more stubborn than he looked. If he felt he was being pressured, he'd just hang up and probably never mention it again.

"When would you like me to turn off the security, sir?"

He heard Flash's sidekick sigh in relief and reply, "When will Dick be out of the house?"

"He and Master Bruce usually leave at about eight o'clock."

"Eight-thirty's good. Leave it off for about fifteen minutes. I doubt I'll need that much time but you never know. And Alfred? Thanks a lot. I owe you one."

Kid Flash hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair, trying to steady his ragged breathing. He couldn't believe Alfred had agreed to do it. Actually, he couldn't believe he was going _through _with this in the first place!

Well, no turning back now. Tonight, he was breaking into Wayne Manor to search for more evidence that would support his theory. Not that he really needed it.

Kid Flash got up from his chair, ready to leave. He didn't get very far before he noticed Speedy standing in the doorway, looking at him with an accusatory expression on his masked face.

That look was enough to tell Kid Flash that he'd been overheard.

"Don't you start with me, Harper…"

"That's it! Now you've gone too far!" Speedy ranted nonetheless. "Breaking into his _house_? Are you insane? If you ask me, _you're _the one who's sick…!"

"Well nobody _asked_ you!" Kid Flash hollered back. "I'm not _asking_ you to like it—I'm not even _asking_ you to approve of it! But I'm doing whatever I can to help Dick, and there's nothing you can do about it!"

He brushed past Speedy and stormed from the room, not looking directly at the young archer until Speedy said lowly, "I'm telling Robin."

That was when Kid Flash stopped in his tracks. After a moment's pause, he whirled around and glowered at Speedy.

"Go ahead then," he challenged. Without a word, he left the Tower, knowing Speedy wouldn't follow through with his threat.

---

"Going out on patrol, I see."

Dick whipped around at the unexpected sound of Alfred's voice in the cave. The swift movement brought on yet another wave of dizziness and nausea. Putting a hand to his forehead with a groan, Dick sank into the nearest chair. However, he still noticed when Alfred came over to examine him.

"I'll be fine in a minute," snapped the boy. "Just turned around too fast, that's all…"

Both of them jumped as a deep voice echoed from the stairwell, "Well maybe if you'd eat something, you wouldn't have this problem."

Dick glared as he recognized his mentor, who was just emerging from the shadows.

"I said I'm fine," Dick replied darkly.

"I heard you. Now make me believe it."

"I'm in no mood to argue with you, Bruce, so just back off."

"And if you think you're going on patrol without your belt, think again."

Batman held the belt in front of Dick. Dick could have sworn his mentor was taunting him.

"Go ahead, Robin. Put it on."

But the boy just sat there, staring and then glaring at the belt. Alfred watched, saying nothing. A feeling of uneasiness settled in the pit of his stomach. Why wouldn't the boy put on his belt?

_Unless… no…!_

Batman shook his head, looking sad.

"You can't, can you? That's why you were expelled from the Titans. Because you're too thin. That's why, isn't it?"

Dick didn't answer, but inside, he was screaming.

_TOO THIN! Why does everyone keep saying that! Can't they see? What's the matter with everybody! Why can't they **see**?_

Batman dropped the belt onto the table and turned swiftly. He was heading for the Batmobile.

"We'll talk about it when I get back."

Dick glanced up at the sound of Batman's voice. He watched wordlessly as his mentor started the Batmobile and roared out of the Cave at a dangerously high speed. Dick was still staring at the place where the Batmobile had been when he heard Alfred's footsteps, heading for the stairway.

_Smart man. _

He knew Dick wouldn't be in the mood for talking at the moment, so he'd left the boy to his own devices.

But later, it would be a different story.

Batman knew his secret now, or at least part of it, and would be expecting a darn good explanation—an explanation that Dick couldn't give.

So what was he going to do?

_Get rid of the evidence, that's what!_

Dick headed for the changing room, planning to get back into his normal clothes and dispose of the ipecac and the diet pills before someone found them.

No, Bruce will find out eventually anyway… you didn't honestly think you could hide anything from a genius like him, did you? You're so stupid! Try thinking of a _good_ idea for once… as if you're even capable of good ideas…

_Run._

And he did. Within seconds, Robin had started up his motorcycle and was out of the Batcave. Where he was going, he didn't know. All he knew was that he had to go _somewhere_. He just couldn't be at Wayne Manor when Batman came back.

But Lady Luck was not on Robin's side that night.

As he rounded another corner, his thoughts were focused solely on how he could explain things to Batman. He didn't notice the large black car heading straight towards him until the R-cycle slammed into the front fender, sending him flying over the hood of the Batmobile…

---

"We'll talk about it when I get back."

Batman slammed the door to the Batmobile and started the engine. He roared out of the Cave at a dangerously high speed without giving his sidekick a second look. He didn't really _want_ to look at Robin, now that he thought about it. The boy was so thin it was physically painful to look at him—every time he looked at Dick, he could feel his stomach churning violently, as if he was about to vomit. How was Dick even _alive_ at that weight? And why hadn't he noticed all of this before?

The more he thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. And finally, the word he had been desperately trying to avoid came into his mind—

_Anorexia._

Dick? Anorexia? The two words didn't seem to go together. There ought to be a law against putting the two in the same sentence. They just didn't seem match up.

'Seem' being the operative word.

Well, there was one good thing in all this: Dick was a minor. That meant they could force him into therapy if he didn't cooperate. And judging by Dick's past behaviors, it didn't seem likely that he'd—

Right in the middle of his thoughts, Batman caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye, something that was rounding the corner almost as fast as he was.

He had only a split second to slam on the breaks, and it wasn't enough.

The Batmobile finally jerked to a stop with the sickening crunch of metal against metal. He didn't even know what he'd hit before something yellow flew past the car window and landed with a thud on the grass in nearby Gotham Central Park.

"_Robin…_"

Batman's cape flew up behind him as he raced over to the fallen hero, who had already rolled to a stop. But when he attempted to help the boy to his feet, all he received in return was the muttered rebuff, "I'm fine. Get away from me."

Well, he seemed to be okay, all things considered. He'd landed on a patch of thick grass, which had softened the landing. Robin would probably be bruised pretty badly in the morning, but he didn't seem to be in very much pain. In fact, he was practically spotless, aside from a few smudges of dirt and grass stains. Lucky kid.

As the fear left him, Batman suddenly felt anger well up. As hard as he tried to control his temper, his voice came out as more of a growl than anything else.

"What are you doing here? I said you couldn't go out on patrol without your utility belt."

"I needed some fresh air… my bike!"

Robin gasped in horror as he finally noticed the crash scene in the middle of the abandoned street. There wasn't much left of his motorcycle to look at; the armored Batmobile had done a thorough job of reducing it to a twisted hunk of metal.

"Aw, man! You totaled my motorcycle! Geez…!" Robin ranted. He whipped around to face Batman and yelled, "What did I do to deserve this?!"

Batman crossed his arms and remained silent. Why didn't he yell at the kid already? It was his fault—he was the one who had snuck out of the Batcave without permission, and he was the one who had come racing around the corner without staying in his lane or even looking where he was going. Batman knew he should punish the boy, but somehow, he found that he really didn't have the heart to do it.

Robin was already punishing himself enough for the both of them.

"Get in the car," the Bat said at last. "I'm taking you home."

"You do and I'll sneak out again!" Robin insisted. "C'mon, Batman, just take me out on patrol with you tonight, huh? I won't do anything, I swear. I'll just stay in the car." Robin looked down and shuffled his feet a little. "Besides… something's telling me that this will be my last patrol for a while, huh?"

Batman nodded once. Neither needed to say anything. Each knew what the other was talking about.

Finally, against his better judgment, Batman ground out, "You stay in the car. Under _no_ circumstances do you get _out _of the car. Understand?"

Robin nodded.

"I'll call Alfred to let him know you're here. And don't be surprised if you hear him chew me out for this, because I'll be very surprised if he doesn't."

---

Alfred turned off the security right on time (right after chewing Batman out, of course). And no more than five seconds later, Kid Flash was there. He had two unusual pieces of equipment with him.

One was an instamatic camera.

The other was a rope with a hook on the end, which he used like a Bat-rope to get up to the windowsill of what he assumed was Dick's bathroom window.

Swiftly, silently, Wally climbed in through the window. If his calculations were correct, then when he turned on the light…

Yes, here he was. Dick's private bathroom. Well, okay, the only thing Wally knew for certain was that it was a bathroom. Who it belonged to was anybody's guess.

But the contents of the medicine cabinet would soon solve _that_ mystery.

But he had to act fast, before Dick came home from patrol and caught Kid Flash snooping around his bathroom. He'd sure have a tough time explaining that!

Kid Flash walked over to the medicine cabinet, but hesitated before opening it. For the past few months, he'd been investigating his best friend, checking on him and recording every little thing he said or did that seemed out-of-character. He was hoping his suspicions about the contents of the cabinet were dead wrong…

_Dead_…

_Come on, West, don't be a coward. You've come this far, so you might as well go all the way…_

Yet still he faltered.

_It's for Dick's own good, even if he doesn't know it yet! Now do it!_

He opened the medicine cabinet.

It all seemed pretty ordinary at first. Dick kept the usual aspirin and junk in there, like any other normal person. Stuff for coughing, colds…

Diet pills?

It didn't come as a shock, as much as he wished it had.

Wally removed the bottle of Relacore from its spot on the shelf. He had almost missed the little bottle, sitting there on the shelf as if it belonged there.

Just like that bottle of Accelis right next to the allergy medication.

He rattled the bottles to see how much there was left in there.

Not a lot. There was even an extra bottle of Accelis already there, ready to be opened whenever Dick felt he needed it.

Kid Flash shook his head sadly. But he decided to bring the near-empty bottle of Accelis with him, just in case he needed material proof later on.

He was about to leave when something else in the cabinet caught his attention. There was another bottle in there, sitting just behind the pain-killers. It was a bit taller than the other bottles and was more old-fashioned—instead of plastic, it was made of glass.

Wally nearly left it in there.

He almost let it go.

_Nearly._

_Almost._

Something told him to check it out, and he did.

The teen sucked in his breath as his worst nightmare suddenly came true.

---

Time seemed to move unbearably slowly for Robin. Most of the night passed uneventfully. He and Batman just sat silently in the Batmobile, patrolling the empty streets.

At around midnight, the pair finally ran into trouble—a gang war near the docks. It looked like they were about to start a rumble.

"Stay here," the Dark Knight reiterated. Then he got out of the car and vanished from sight.

Robin scowled. He knew he'd promised to stay in the Batmobile, but why did he have to? Why _should _he? It wasn't fair! He could handle himself just as well as Batman could… well, maybe not _just _as well, but pretty well!

Well, he'd show Batman. He could handle this without any help from anybody!

So when Batman told the boy to stay in the car, Robin ignored him.

He'd show Batman. He was going to go after the gang leaders and take them both down. He knew that the rest of the gangs would scatter like scared rabbits as soon as they realized that the 'head men' were down for the count.

The leaders were easy to identify—they were the guys with the knives.

He'd take them both down. At the same time. That would show Batman. And that would show the Titans that he was as good as he ever was, too.

He'd show them.

He'd show them all, and then he'd show himself.

There was just one thing Robin didn't take into account, one thing that he refused to admit in spite of all that had been happening lately.

That he simply wasn't at the top of his game.

And he remembered, a little too late, that he could no longer fit into his utility belt. He had left it—and all of his equipment—back in the Cave, where it didn't do him any good as one of the gang leaders spotted the Boy Wonder and took a swipe at him with his knife…

---

Wally couldn't sleep that night. He just lay there in bed, staring up at the ceiling with his hands folded under his head, thinking.

_Ipecac!_ He still couldn't believe it. Dick—his best friend—the leader of the Titans—was using _ipecac!_ It seemed almost impossible. Dick was a smart guy, so level-headed, not some random teenager who used the stuff without knowing of the possible consequences.

Rolling onto his stomach, Wally pulled the shoebox out from under his bed. He opened it and retrieved his report. Then, turning on the bedside lamp, he whispered the words aloud to his darkened room:

"It is a common mistake to say that only white, middle- to upper-class teenage and college-age girls can suffer from eating disorders. Most doctors now know that this is not the case. Anyone can suffer from one or multiple eating disorders; the gender, race, sexual orientation, and social status of the person don't matter. Anyone may still be at risk of developing an ED, especially if she or he…"

Wally sighed. He replaced the report and gave the box a little push so that it was once again hidden from view. He didn't need to read the rest. He knew the list by heart now, and Dick fit several of the items perfectly.

_One: Has a family history of the disease and/or depression_

Garth had found Dick's family records by contacting Haly's Circus, where their friend had been born. They indicated that his grandmother had suffered from anorexia for over forty years before dying of cardiac arrest, probably as a result of the disorder. The thought that a fate like that currently awaited Dick still made Wally shudder.

_Three: Is a perfectionist_

If Dick wasn't the world's strictest perfectionist… the guy was never happy unless he did things absolutely perfectly. Period. It was just the way he was. It made him a great leader, but was awfully rough on the ego.

_Four: Has been through something traumatic (divorce, death in the family, etc.)_

Dick had watched his parents' murder when he was just eight years old. That was about as traumatic as you could get. I mean, look at what happened to Bruce Wayne after watching his parents' murder.

_Seven: Participates in an activity or sport that places emphasis on thinness (ballet, gymnastics, etc.)_

That had been one of the more obvious risk factors to identify with Dick Grayson. The guy had been a trapeze artist practically since birth, and spent hours a day just practicing his routines, plus he probably felt pressured to stay in excellent condition as a crime-fighter. So that took care of number seven.

_Eight: Feels as if she/he has no control over her/his life_

If a person felt as if their lives were being controlled by someone else, they might develop an eating disorder to show themselves and their family members that they still had control over something—in this case, what they consumed. Well, Dick lived with Bruce Wayne, and no more needed to be said on that subject.

_Ten: Is unhappy at home._

Once again, nothing more needed to be said other than the fact that he lived with Bruce Wayne. Dick had managed to maintain his cheerfulness and penchant for bad puns throughout the years, but there had certainly been days when Wally would come into the Tower to find Dick sitting there alone, obviously unhappy, sometimes looking as if he had been crying. Wally had known that Dick was hiding something, but these phases had always passed so quickly that he never thought much of them.

And now he was beginning to wish he had.

* * *

**The title of this chapter does not mean that I am anywhere near the end of this story (_heck_ no!). It just means that Dick's plans are starting to fall apart. Oh, and I don't own either of the diet pills I mentioned; I just picked them randomly from ALL THESE DARNED DIET PILL COMMERCIALS on television. Really, they're so irritating.**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**steelelf-**Hey, no problem :) I'd hit Speedy for you, but I've already got a reviewer kicking him all the time, so I think I'd better not. Batman, however, I can do! (runs off with an anvil) Hee hee...

**ShockMePeter-**LOL, I never noticed that. XD Yeah, I guess you could, but that's not the way I meant it. Thanks, I'm okay now, but our trip to New York has been canceled. Oh well.

**Lil' Kanny-**Yes, Batman finally knows! 'Bout time. Oh, and I just finished reading "Road to Healing". I love the ending! You both did a great job. I can't wait to read more of your stuff!

**Boleyn-**Thanks, I'm all better now. As for Bruce, well, at least he knows. Fixing it may be a bit more complicated, as well shall soon see.

**wingnut-**Thank you, I'm very flattered! Sorry about Bruce's cluelessness (is that a word?), but I figured it would be hard for him to see things straight just because he's so close to Dick.

**caltha-**Aw, don't cry! Robby gets better... fairly soon... (coughs and hands you tissues)

**State of Matter-**Wally's still in denial. At least he was before this chapter. But his uncle does find out in the next chapter, so Dick should be getting help very soon.

**CrazyInsomaniac-**See? I knew Speedy had a heart! ;-) As for whether Robing gets it or not, I'll explain that later. (mysterious grin)

**Gohanzgirl-**Yeah. Being fired from his own team certainly isn't going to help matters.

**Rabbit of Iron-**Really? Okay, I knew about the Changeling thing but the rest is new info, mostly because I don't read the comics (I wish I could, though. You're lucky, you have a collection!!). Thanks for reviewing AND for all that great info!

**myrina-**That's okay, I forgive you (for not reviewing, that is--we'll duke it out over your supposed retirement another time. LOL). I know, I have so many loyal reviewers, all of whom I'm so grateful for! Thank you, everybody!!

**SarahC4321-**I don't know. If I knew Robin had an eating disorder, I'd probably be terrified to go to Batman!

**kokomocalifornia-**Thank you! I hope you had fun wherever you went.


	20. Missing

**Yes, I'm back to my usual Saturday updates. Finally!! Although there _are_ rumors we'll be in New York (at long last) sometime Easter weekend, I really don't know. As of now, just assume everything is back to normal.**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Nineteen: Missing

Very early the next morning, Speedy, Wonder Girl, and Aqualad sat silently in the meeting room as Kid Flash showed them the bottle of diet pills he claimed to have found in Dick's private bathroom.

"So I guess this means you all think he's really anorexic now."

"It's a little obvious, isn't it, Speedy?" Wonder Girl said fiercely. "He's been dangerously underweight for weeks and is still taking two kinds of diet pills, neither of which he needed in the first place. I don't know about you, but it seems to me that Robin really has a problem, and we need to help him!"

Speedy crossed his arms and glowered at the rest of them. Kid Flash couldn't blame him for being skeptical and for wanting to deny that there was anything wrong with the Gotham crime-fighter, but the time for that was long passed now.

"Yeah, and that's not all he's been using," Kid Flash sighed, almost reluctantly. He pulled out a picture and showed it to the others. Even Speedy looked surprised when he saw the photo.

"I found it in his medicine cabinet with the diet pills," said Kid Flash quietly.

Finally, Wonder Girl blurted out, "_Ipecac?! _He's been _making_ himself throw up with _ipecac?_"

Kid Flash sighed again and nodded.

"Robin is much too intelligent for that!" Aqualad tried to stick up for their friend. "He knows the dangers of using ipecac! He taught _us_ about them!"

"Yes, but you have to remember—Robin isn't Robin anymore. There's something wrong with him… and we have to figure out what it is before it kills him."

There was a moment of silence as the Teen Titans tried to absorb this new information that Kid Flash had brought them. Even Speedy looked as if he was beginning to believe it.

"What do we do?" Wonder Girl whispered.

"We tell him," Kid Flash said simply.

Of course, it wasn't exactly easy to get Robin to the Titans' Tower to talk with them, not after they'd expelled him the way they had.

"You should know better than to come crawling back to me," were his exact words upon hearing Kid Flash's request. "What's the matter? Can't keep Speedy away from Wonder Girl?"

Well, no, but that was beside the point.

Kid Flash spent nearly ten minutes on his darned communicator, trying to convince Robin to come to the Tower. But when he finally succeeded, it took the former Titans' leader nearly a quarter of an hour to get there.

Normally, it took him a matter of moments.

And he _never_ showed up in civilian clothes like that…

The Titans gasped when they saw the Boy Wonder.

"What?" Robin snapped. "I just got back from patrol and didn't feel like changing again, okay?"

But that wasn't what they were staring at.

Half of Dick's face was swollen and bruised, and it looked as if his lip had been bleeding not too long ago.

No-one said a word as Robin stormed into the room. It was clear that Speedy wanted to ask what had caused Robin to get beaten up so badly (he was probably getting sloppy because he was so appallingly underweight, thought Kid Flash). But even he knew to keep his mouth shut when Robin was in one of his moods. And this was just about the worst they'd seen him in a long time.

Stopping in front of his fellow sidekicks, Robin crossed his arms and gave them a look.

"Well? What is it?"

Without a word, Kid Flash handed Robin the diet pills and the photo he had taken of Dick's other 'medication'.

Robin didn't take them; he just gaped, suddenly looking pale beneath the cuts and bruises. Kid Flash waited a moment before speaking up.

"We found them in the—"

"You went through my stuff?" Robin asked, the anger suddenly returning.

"So you admit they're yours!" Speedy accused, wide-eyed from shock. Aqualad gave him a nudge, trying to prevent him from provoking Robin, but it was too late.

"_That_ is none of your business! The _point_ is that you broke into my personal property—into my _house!_ I'm not even going to ask how you pulled that off, but whoever's responsible for this had better come clean! Now!"

Once again, the Titans were stunned into submission by Robin's temper tantrum. They should have been used to it at this point… but it was just so hard to accept this 'new' Robin.

"Well? I'm waiting."

Finally, Kid Flash stepped forward.

"_You_," Robin growled, disgusted. "My best friend…"

"I _am _your friend, Robin. We all are," insisted the other boy. He tried not to take Robin's insults personally. "That's why we did it, because we were worried about you!"

"_What_ _for?_"

"What for?!" repeated Aqualad, sounding incredulous. He wasn't usually the kind to lose his temper, but Robin's behavior was apparently too much for him to take. "Robin, you have lost almost twenty pounds in the past month _alone!_ Have you even seen yourself in the mirror lately? You're _beyond _being too thin by now, and you've been irresponsible and snappish for the past six months! And _you_ ask why we're worried about you?! Robin, what's wrong with you?"

Robin stood there with a hard look on his face. At the beginning of Aqualad's tirade, Wonder Girl could have sworn something had changed in Robin's eyes—surprise, perhaps, but also fear, and curiosity, as if honestly wondering why everyone was acting so strangely.

But by the end of the speech, the new, colder Robin had quickly returned. It was like… like he was two different people… the Robin on the surface was like a demon who had taken over the real hero. And the real hero was hiding just below the surface, waiting to be saved.

Waiting for _them _to save him.

"I don't have time for this," Robin said at last, his voice emotionless.

He turned to leave the Titans' Tower.

"Robin, wait!"

Kid Flash cocked an eyebrow in surprise.

The cry had come from Speedy.

Robin turned to face him, looking impatient.

Speedy slowly walked up to Robin and said quietly, "Look, Rob. I didn't want to believe it either. While these guys have been saying you've got all these eating disorders and junk—"

"_Eating_ disorders?!"

"—I ignored it; I didn't want to believe it. Really. I didn't. But… but now… you've changed, Dick, you really have."

Robin's eyebrows shot up at the use of his real name, but Speedy didn't stop.

"Look, I don't know what made you think that starving yourself was the way to go. Maybe it was my fault, maybe it wasn't, but… we just want to help you, Robin. Believe me. All we want to do is help. Just… _let_ us help, would you?"

The Titans were surprised by Speedy's heartfelt plea. It must have struck a chord with Robin, too, because his cold expression softened considerably by the end of it.

Robin hung his head slightly.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I've been acting like a real jerk lately, and I'm sorry. But… guys… you really don't have to worry about me. I'm fine. Really I am! I just have to lose a few more pounds and then—"

And that was where Speedy, like Aqualad before him, lost it.

"A few more pounds!" he yelled. "Al-Alright, that's it! You want to starve yourself? Go right ahead! See if I care!"

Speedy stalked out of the room, slamming his fists down on the table on his way out. He may have come to terms with Robin's problem, but now he had to take the frustration, anger, and pure fear that came with it.

---

By the time Wally got home, he felt completely wiped out. After Speedy had stormed out of the Tower, Wonder Girl made the mistake of asking Robin why he was doing this to himself. She had meant well, but it only made Robin launch into another tantrum which sent him away in a fury as well.

The stress of the past few weeks was finally getting to Wally. Up until last night, he had only _suspected_ that Dick had an eating disorder; he'd been hoping to just ignore the physical symptoms, hoping he was wrong. But finding _ipecac_… and the bottle wasn't even unopened! Dick had actually _used_ some of it!

The discovery seemed to confirm what Wally had known all along.

What was worse, Wally knew it was his fault that Dick was sick. That day in the Watchtower… if only he hadn't made that dumb comment about Dick gaining weight! He hadn't dared to share this fact with the rest of the Titans, fearing what they would say if they knew.

Wally trudged up to his room, exhausted. He wished he could sleep. He wished he could forget about this whole thing for just a couple of hours so that he could rest.

But, then again, Dick wasn't getting any vacations from his misery, either.

Sympathy pains, he supposed. Well, he deserved them.

He opened the door to his bedroom and was quite surprised to find his uncle sitting on his bed…

…Going through the shoebox where Wally had been storing his evidence…

Wally could have sworn his heart stopped as Uncle Barry glanced up at the sound of the door opening.

For just a second, Wally was angry. He suddenly understood why Dick had been so ticked off after learning that someone had been snooping through his stuff.

And then, he was relieved. Relieved that someone else knew, that someone else could help. That it wasn't just up to him anymore.

"You've done a lot of research here," Barry said, mostly to himself.

The boy just nodded.

"This is the case, then, isn't it? The Titans case you said you've been working on… this is the case, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

Barry said nothing for a moment. His gaze drifted from his nephew's crestfallen expression to the two objects clutched in his right hand.

A bottle and a small paper, most likely a photograph.

"What's that?" he asked, nodding towards them.

Wally glanced down. With a shaky sigh, the boy stepped forward and handed the last of the evidence to Uncle Barry with a trembling hand.

All Barry had to do was take one look at the photo…

"Oh my God…"

"I found it in his…"

Wally couldn't even get the rest of his sentence out before Barry all but leapt from the bed and strode quickly downstairs. Wally followed, already knowing what his uncle had in mind.

---

It was Alfred who answered the phone. Normally, he wouldn't interrupt Master Bruce while he was at the Watchtower. But there was something in Master Barry's tone that told him this was too important to just take a message.

So he went down to the Cave, turned on the JLA Communicator, and called for Batman.

"Look, you know I'm busy," were the first words out of Batman's mouth.

"I apologize for the intrusion, sir," Alfred said, trying not to sigh in sheer annoyance, "but Master Barry is calling for you—"

"Tell him to _wait_."

"I believe you will want to take this call immediately, sir," the butler hinted.

There was a pause from Bruce's end of the line before he finally told Alfred to put him through, not sounding pleased about being interrupted.

"Batman? Wally has something to tell you. _Now_."

The Dark Knight said nothing as he heard Barry handing the phone over to his nephew. It took slightly longer than Batman thought it should. Probably because Wally was scared to talk to him. He vaguely wondered what the kid had done now.

That was until Wally actually began talking.

---

"…I don't know where he went after he left the Tower," Wally finished, his mouth painfully dry. Why had Uncle Barry made _him _tell Batman that his kid had an eating disorder?! "I assumed he went home or to the Watchtower or something…"

"No, he hasn't been here. Not that I know of," Batman said shortly. "Hold on."

Batman pushed a couple of buttons and was soon talking with Alfred once again.

"Tell Robin to come to the Watchtower immediately. That's an order."

"I'm sorry, sir," Alfred said slowly, suspecting that something was amiss, "but Master Dick is not home. He was called to the Titans' Tower about an hour ago and has not yet returned… is something wrong, sir?"

But Batman had already hung up on him.

---

"Where could he have gone?"

It was Starfire who asked the question. She and the rest of the Titans were over at the JLA Watchtower. After it was realized that Robin had gone missing, the League called the junior heroes over to tell them the entire story.

"Why didn't you tell us all of this before?" Green Arrow ranted. "Why did you let it go for so long?"

"Don't blame me! I didn't make him sick—I didn't even _believe_ it till Robin started yelling at us just now!" Speedy shot back, clearly annoyed.

"That's not the point now, you two," Wonder Woman interjected sharply. "Right now we have to find Robin before something happens to him."

"Or he does something to himself," Batman put in quietly.

"Well maybe if you'd pay attention to him every once in a while…" Speedy grumbled. The comment earned Speedy a slight shove from his partner.

Batman didn't react.

"Cyborg," Aqualad piped up, a bit shyly, "don't you have a tracking device built in somewhere? I remember you used it during our last case…"

"Yeah. Unfortunately, it only works when his locator is turned on, and right now, it's looking like Robin really,_ really_ doesn't want us to find him," Cyborg explained. He tapped the tracking device in his arm, hoping that the problem was with his end and not Robin's. But he came up empty.

"So where should we start?" asked Raven.

She and the rest of the Titans turned to look at Batman. He knew Robin best; he should decide. Besides, it was his fault that Robin was sick in the first place—if he didn't constantly pressure him, then he ignored him. If Batman actually cared, he'd pay attention to his ward, and maybe he could have caught the disorder early enough to prevent it from getting too bad.

The Titans blamed Batman.

All except Kid Flash, who just turned his head away.

He knew the truth.

He knew it was _his_ fault.

---

After the meeting, most of the heroes returned to their hometowns. There was no telling whether or not Dick had bothered to stay in Gotham City. With the kind of equipment that was available to the boy, he easily could have gone virtually anywhere—even off-planet.

Kid Flash, however, had opted to join Batman in searching Gotham. The Dark Knight hadn't been too happy with this, but he said nothing, as usual.

Before going out to search, Kid Flash decided it would be best if he changed clothes first. After all, they were looking for Dick Grayson, not Robin. And while having Batman look for a missing person seemed natural, having Kid Flash do the same thing without his senior partner in a different town might have aroused suspicion.

"You check the docks," were Batman's only orders. Then he tore off in the Batmobile, leaving Wally alone. He wouldn't have minded being alone, except for the fact that the skies were darkening quickly—it looked like it could start raining at any moment.

How appropriate.

---

Batman adjusted the setting on the binoculars and took a good look through them. He almost sighed at what he saw—or rather, what he _didn't _see, which happened to be his junior partner. All that was visible in Barbara Gordon's apartment was, well, Barbara. She had recently returned to Gotham from college, and Batman figured that Dick may have gone to see her since it wasn't likely she knew about any of... _this_ yet.

There would be time to tell her later. There would also be time to answer the Bat-signal that had just appeared in the stormy sky.

But now was not that time.

He tucked the binoculars away into his utility belt. As he did, he couldn't help but remember Robin's belt, still sitting in the corner of the changing room, the exact same place the boy had dumped it when claiming it was broken.

It hadn't taken the Dark Knight very long to figure out the _real_ reason why Robin had refused to wear the belt.

But it had been long enough.

By the time he had gotten around to discussing it with his partner, the Titans had already expelled him. Wally's hesitation in explaining the reason behind the expulsion had been enough to convince Batman that Robin's weight was a major factor; Wally just didn't want to bring it up because he was afraid it would sound like he was daring to criticize the Dark Knight.

But he would have deserved that criticism. That's not to say he would have taken it very well, but he would have deserved it just the same. He should have paid more attention to Dick's behavior. He should have noticed.

_You **did **notice,_ Bruce thought, remorse and depression quickly setting in. _You just didn't accept it. You figured that since he was your kid, he was immune to all that. You figured he could just get over whatever was bothering him and get on with it. He's just a child, he can't do **everything**! He's not perfect!_

_Too bad Dick thinks he has to be…_

Batman made his way back down to street level, got into the Batmobile, and revved up the engine.

_Dick… why? Why couldn't you come to me—or to Alfred or even Clark, if you wanted? Why couldn't you talk to somebody if you were upset, the way you used to? You used to be so open about everything… you used to be happy. _

_Why did that change, Dick?_

_**Why?**_

* * *

**So where is Dick, you ask? That, my friends, will have to wait until next week. Muahaha...**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**Lil' Kanny-**You're welcome. I look forward to more of your stories, they're so good!!

**BatThing-**I don't think I'd know what to do either. Unfortunately for us, Batman doesn't know quite how to handle it either. And Robin really needs to learn to listen to people!!

**steelelf-**I think Speedy took your dare. Batman, sweet? There's a new word. I guess he's kinda nice in later chapters, but I mean WAY later.

**AddictedtoTsuzukiTatsumi-**Really? Thanks! The next one is even better! (cough) At least I hope it is... there's more confronting in that chapter, anyway...

**State of Matter-**Oh, me too! I love the Speedy/Robin friendship thing. And Speedy isn't really trying to act mean, he's just... well, that's sort of a secret. Hehe.

**Gohanzgirl-**Thank you! Sorry if I spooked ya. ;-)

**caltha-**Yes, I guess that's something in Bruce's favor. I love Dick too! That's the reason why I beat up on him all the time... plus he's the perfect candidate for an eating disorder, I mean, really...

**kokomocalifornia-**I missed those numbers on purpose. Even Dick can't fit all of the risk factors for EDs, such as being a victim of abuse, so I eliminated several items on Wally's list :)

**Boleyn-**Thanks for reviewing! I always like hearing from you.

**ShockMePeter-**Well, maybe it's a good thing we didn't go because there's this infection in my foot that came back. -.- Anyway, yeah, I'd run if I were you. Batman was NOT in a good mood, last time I checked... lol.

**CrazyInsomaniac-**Ha ha, maybe. XD A leash is an interesting idea. I doubt he'd appreciate it, however. I suggested putting a muzzle on him once and he didn't respond too well (heh).

**AdrenalineRush-**Excluding the prologue and epilogue, this story is 168 pages long. I know, it's frightening. And please don't be afraid to review in the future! I really love feedback!

**Wiley Card-**Ooh, I've never been to Arizona. Is it nice there? And whatever the Hawaiian Happy Dance is, I'll do it with you! As long as it's legal...

**Rabbit of Iron-**Thanks, I'll keep that in mind! I heart your collection, too. I've actually been to that site--isn't it great?! I hope your friend is getting the help she needs :)


	21. Say It

**Okay, this chapter's a bit short, but if I'm not mistaken, this is kind of what you've been waiting for. You'll see what I mean in a minute. Hee hee. XD Oh, I had fun writing this one!!**

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Broken Glass

Chapter Twenty: Say It

"Dick!" Wally hollered as he wandered the streets. "Hey, Dick, where are you?!"

The only answer he received was a streak of lightning and a clap of thunder. Wally glanced up, startled. That storm was closer than he had thought.

"Dick! Come on, where are you!"

Wally searched the streets for hours, calling Dick's name as loudly as he could, trying to be heard over the thunder and, eventually, the pouring rain. Finally, he decided against yelling for his friend; if Dick didn't want to be found, letting the entire east side know someone was searching for him wouldn't help.

As he wandered the muddy streets, he failed to notice when his cell phone fell out of his pocket, essentially cutting him off from the rest of the searching party.

Kid Flash didn't usually like investigating things in stealth mode, but he did know how to do it. He figured that now would be as good a time as any to get a little extra practice in this area.

Wally slipped into the shadows and spent at least an hour peeking around the corners of buildings, searching for any sign of his friend.

But there was nothing.

"Come on, Dick, where are you?" he whispered.

Suddenly, Wally spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced up to get a better look and could just barely make out a huddled form on the very edge of a nearby rooftop.

He couldn't tell who it was, but he would bet anything that it was Dick.

Wally almost shouted out but realized that—if it _was_ Dick—he would have time to escape or even jump before he got up there. So he once again opted for stealth and began to silently make his way up the fire escape. It had become slippery because of the rainstorm, and Wally almost forgot about Dick in his quest to keep from falling.

Lightning flashed as Wally set foot on the flat roof. The person was still there, curled up into a small ball with its head buried in its folded arms. Long black hair was plastered against the back of its neck, soaked by the rain.

Wally stopped just behind it.

"Dick?" he said quietly, almost inaudibly.

The dark head slowly straightened up at the sound, but there was no other response from the boy. Wally hesitantly approached and took a seat next to Dick. Neither said anything for a while, just staring out at the stormy black waters below them.

"I was going to jump," Dick finally murmured. The two boys turned to look at each other. Something about the protruding cheekbones and the pained blue eyes struck a chord with Wally, and he found himself swallowing a lump in his throat.

"I came up here to jump," Dick explained, his voice choked. "I knew you'd go straight to Batman with what you found. I didn't want to face him… or _you_… I was going to jump so I wouldn't have to face anybody."

Dick lowered his head again, as if ashamed of himself.

"But I couldn't. I couldn't do it."

_Thank goodness,_ were the first words that entered Wally's mind.

"And do you know why I couldn't do it? Sure you do," Dick said in a hostile tone. "You know I'm a coward. That's why I couldn't jump. _Because I'm a coward_."

"Dick, you're not a coward," Wally retorted firmly.

"Yes I am! Why else would you fire me from the Titans?"

"Because you're sick and we wanted to protect you!"

"From what?!"

"Yourself, that's what!"

Dick turned his head away and scowled at the water beneath them. Wally tensed, ready to grab Dick and pin him to the floor in case he decided to jump.

But he didn't.

"I just don't understand you, Wally. Why can't you let it go? I'm fine. Really."

"You were about to jump off a _building_. Don't you _dare_ tell me you're fine," Wally ground out. Dick turned and blinked at him in surprise. Wally never talked back to people like that.

"I was about to jump because of _you_," Dick finally shot back. "If you had just minded your own business, everything would have been fine and I could go home!"

"No… no, that's not it at all, is it?" Wally concluded, realization finally dawning. "You _know_ you're sick—you're just afraid to admit it! You weren't going to jump because I found the ipecac… you were going to jump because you didn't want to admit you need help!"

"Shut up, Wally!"

"Dick, just admit it—for your own sake, just _say_ it. Just say you need help!"

"Go away!"

"_No!_ And if you think I'm going to sit back and watch you kill yourself, you've got another thing coming because we all care about you too damn much to let you do this!"

Dick looked as if he had been slapped in the face, Wally's harsh yet loving words cutting him to the quick. Wally just sat there breathing heavily, praying that he'd finally gotten through to his friend.

The pair sat motionless, letting the rain pour down on them and soak through their light jackets. Thunder rolled overhead, almost instantly followed by another vivid streak of lightning and more thunder. A small river was running along the gutter of the dark dirty street below. Wally noticed none of this, still staring at Dick's shaking form.

Finally, Dick's haunted blue eyes came up to meet Wally's green ones. Wally saw fear there, a fear unlike any he'd ever seen before.

"Just say it, Dick. Just say it—'I have an eating disorder and I need help'. It's okay to admit you need help… just _say _it, _please._"

Even in the rain, Wally could tell his friend was crying.

"I never… I mean I didn't… I didn't want…"

Dick seemed so lost somehow, so small and vulnerable. Wally had never seen Dick like this. Any anger he felt suddenly dissipated, and a strong sense of sympathy and protectiveness came in its place.

"I know you didn't," Wally said, placing a reassuring hand on Dick's shoulder.

Swiftly, Dick's confusion gave way to panic, and he reached forward to grab the collar of his friend's jacket with an incredibly weak grip that made Wally's heart bleed.

"You gotta help me, Wally," he begged, his voice desperate. "You just gotta help me! _Please,_ Wally! Please, I'll do anything! Just… _help_ me, Wally… _help me…_"

There Dick lost any self-control he may have had left and dissolved into tears. Wally pulled the other boy closer and held him while he cried. He could feel his own heart breaking as Dick's warm tears added to the dampness of his jacket.

"C'mon, buddy, you're gonna be okay…" he said, trying to fight that annoying lump in his throat. He wasn't used to this consoling thing and wished he never would be. At least not with Dick. "Everything's gonna be okay, you'll see."

After a few minutes, Wally continued, "I'm gonna take you home now, okay, Dick? Then we can straighten this whole thing out with your guardian and he'll—"

"Bruce!" Dick yelped, panicked again. He wrenched himself away from Wally and stared at him with a horrified expression on his face. "Oh, God, what's Bruce gonna think, Wally? What'll he think of _me?_"

Wally stared, unsure of where Dick was headed with this.

"What'll he _think_ of me…" Dick went on. He turned away from Wally and curled himself into a ball, looking frightened. "_I'll _tell you what he'll think of me! Nothing but a miserable, pathetic _weakling_,_ that's_ what he'll think of me!"

"No he won't…"

"Yes, he will! Because it's the truth! Just a miserable… pathetic… oh, _God…_"

Dick brought his arms up over his face, as if trying to hide from the world and all the pain it had caused him. Wally put a comforting arm around Dick's slender shoulders and offered what little support he could.

"Don't worry, Dick. We've always taken care of each other before, right? Well that's not gonna change," he vowed softly. "I promise."

"I don't deserve it," Dick choked out after a short pause.

"Yes you do," Wally insisted, giving Dick's arm a squeeze. He almost panicked as his hand hit poorly-protected bone. "Just wait. Pretty soon this whole thing will be over and you and Roy and me will be sitting around the Watchtower drinking their awful hot chocolate again. Remember how we used to do that, Dick?"

"Hot chocolate…" Dick mumbled compulsively. "A hundred… calories per—"

Wally never got the chance to admonish Dick for his behavior before the distressed young man burst into a violent coughing fit. All Wally could do was glance up at the skies as if to say, _Aw, c'mon, don't let him get the flu on top of everything else… c'mon, not now…_

As soon as the coughing subsided, Dick went back to crying. Wally let Dick use his shoulder for support once again.

It was the least he could do.

---

An hour later, the two boys sat in Dr. Leslie Thompkins's office. After Dick's crying had slowed, Wally finally realized that he had lost his cell phone, leaving him without a way to contact anyone and tell them he'd found Dick. Dick had suggested going to Dr. Thompkins's office, and Wally had agreed.

It had been a surprisingly long walk for just six blocks. After only a few yards, it had become apparent that Dick was in no condition to do much walking. Without a word, Wally had put his arm around his friend to steady him.

Eventually, Wally was forced to carry him. As he picked him up, Wally could feel Dick's ribs sticking out dangerously, and he seemed almost weightless to Kid Flash's toned muscles.

It was a disturbing experience.

Leslie had, of course, been informed of the fact that Dick was missing. So she was prepared for Dick and Wally when they walked into her office, soaking wet and very distraught.

The first thing she did was to get them a couple of blankets and make sure they were settled semi-comfortably in the waiting room. Then she picked up her phone and called Bruce to let him know that Dick had been found. He promised to come over as soon as he got out of costume, and then hung up without another word.

She sighed. But right now, Dick needed a complete physical, no matter how painful that process would be for him.

For _her._

The first thing she did was to weigh him. She made him turn around as he stepped on the scale, however, so that he couldn't see what the number was. She was no expert in the field of eating disorders, but she did know that the number on the scale would never be low enough to an anorexic, no matter how small it was.

_Besides, he probably knows the number right down to the last ounce anyway…_

The number was seventy-six.

If she had made him take his clothes off, it would have been seventy-three.

Several of the other heroes who had gone along on the search were able to get to Leslie's office before Bruce, thanks to their superpowers. Bruce himself arrived about five minutes after receiving Doctor Leslie's call.

He was not pleased with what he found.

Wally was sitting in the waiting room with a blanket wrapped around him. He turned as soon as Bruce entered, as did the other heroes in the room. Bruce ignored their sympathetic stares and asked where Dick was.

As if on cue, the door to the examination room opened. Leslie came out first with Dick close behind. He, too, was wrapped in a blanket.

For the first time in what seemed like years, Bruce took a good hard look at his ward. He couldn't see much because of the blanket, but his face alone spoke volumes.

He was thin. Much _too_ thin. How the kid could even stand by himself was a mystery to Bruce. The dark circles under his eyes indicated insomnia, a common side effect of eating disorders. The dark circles and the bruises from that night were emphasized by the pale skin surrounding them. Dick was usually well-tanned, plus his skin was just naturally a tone darker because of the Romany in him.

His hands looked a little blue, too, and he was shivering in spite of the blanket. Poor blood circulation and lack of body fat were the most likely culprits.

How could he possibly have missed all this before?

Dick glanced up as he exited the examination room, but when he saw that everybody was looking him, he quickly redirected his gaze to the floor.

He refused to look at Bruce.

He absolutely refused to look up and see the disappointment—probably even the hatred—in his eyes.

Had Dick relented and looked at his mentor, he wouldn't have seen either of those things.

He would have seen pain.

* * *

**If Sanjaya wins, I will personally tell my mother that I put a cuss word in this story. LOL. I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I don't even watch _American_ _Idol_, so I don't care whether the guy wins or not. If I offended you (which is looking pretty unlikely from where I'm sitting), please don't kill me. Hehe. XD**

**Barbara Gordon joins us next chapter. Stay tuned!**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**JLAfan-**No, you didn't miss anything. That paper was the photograph Kid Flash took of the ipecac in Dick's medicine cabinet. It's the same one he showed the Titans.

**steelelf-**You were close--not a bridge, but a building. Well, at least he didn't do it... as for Speedy, no. No heroin yet. Every half-hour? Wow. That's very flattering... I think. ;)

**ShockMePeter-**Hehe... I don't know, the chapters just work out that way. Sushi?! Ack! I hate seafood! (cowers) Please spare me because I updated...

**AdrenalineRush-**JLA stands for Justice League of America. I didn't find out about Raven's bond until after I had finished the fic, so no, I'm afraid it doesn't work here.

**Lil' Kanny-**Evil? Me? Muahahahaha!! (cough, cough) Terribly sorry about that. I got carried away. XD I can't wait to read your new stories!

**Gohanzgirl-**Not very far, apparently. And maybe that's a good thing!

**SarahC4321-**That's okay. I'm glad you're back, though :) And, well, to be quite honest, Robin hasn't been okay for the majority of this story...

**Boleyn-**I know, the Titans are wrong about that. There's never any one thing that triggers an eating disorder; there's usually quite a few things involved.

**kokomocalifornia-**That idea of Dick being where the Batsignal is... that was so good I seriously considered rewriting this scene. But I'm lazy, so we'll have to deal with it as is. (sigh) But that was very good thinking, though.

**caltha-**Ah, it's a shame things aren't that simple! But Speedy was very relieved to here that you weren't gonna kick him anymore, lol.

**TheBatThing-**As long as you like the story, any review is fine! I have problems with this stupid site all the time, so don't worry about it. Faved? Alright! (dances)

**SparklesPlenty-**Thank you for that (wonderfully long) review. I couldn't have said it better myself. As for Speedy, um, hold that thought. He's not quite finished behaving like a moron yet (hint, hint).


	22. Aftermath

**Next week I'll update on Friday because we won't be here Saturday (we'll be on that plane to Disneyworld, hee hee hee...). But don't worry, I'll be back in time to post another chapter on Saturday, as usual.**

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Broken Glass

Chapter Twenty-One: Aftermath

Barbara Gordon couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had been away at college for most of the past six months and hadn't seen Dick at all since coming home two weeks ago. When she had come to the manor, wondering where her friend had disappeared to (and where Robin was, for that matter), she had been surprised by the morose Alfred who greeted her at the door. Then, when she found the Justice League and the Teen Titans gathered in the Wayne living room, she _knew_ something was wrong.

Between the Titans and League, the entire horrifying tale was revealed to the Commissioner's daughter.

She was skeptical at first. Dick had been her best friend ever since he had first moved to Gotham at the tender age of eight. Despite the difference in their ages, she had gotten along surprisingly well with the precocious little boy.

But he had always been so gosh-darn _happy,_ sometimes even annoyingly so. Depression and eating disorders just didn't _sound_ like Dick, especially not the part about the ipecac.

But then, as she thought about it, she reluctantly began to accept it.

He was a first-class gymnast, dedicated to the sport.

A responsible leader and a stellar student, although he was considerably more interested in the former than in the latter.

And, perhaps most importantly, he was under constant pressure from Batman—and himself—to do more and do it better.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Dick had been on a collision course with anorexia for years.

"Where is he now?" Barbara whispered, fighting tears.

"Upstairs," Clark answered quietly. "The doctor gave him some sleeping pills. He, um… he was pretty upset when Wally found him."

"Does he know he's sick?"

"Yes. He knows."

Barbara placed a gentle hand on Clark's shoulder, hoping to comfort the both of them through the simple action. She knew that Clark was very close to Dick and that he must be feeling very upset, perhaps even guilty, at the thought of the poor kid being so ill.

Footsteps echoed from the stairway and became louder as they approached the doors to the living room. All heads turned up as the doors opened and Wally entered.

"Doctor's with him," the boy said softly when he noticed that everybody was looking at him. "Says he's… says he's weak, that he'll need some pretty intense treatment. But he's got a good chance of being okay if he doesn't resist the treatment."

Well, he'd finished what he'd had to say to them, and so he left the room again.

Now he had to talk to someone else.

He knew he wasn't supposed to bother Bruce at the moment, and Uncle Barry would probably have his hide if he did. But Wally knew he'd chicken out if he didn't come clean right _now._

And so, he tentatively raised a hand and knocked lightly on the door before entering the study.

Wally had never seen the dreaded Dark Knight look so… _depressed _before. _Depressing_, yes, but never _depressed_. The normally sharp blue eyes turned to stare at the intruder. They seemed pained, somehow.

"Mr. Wayne? Mind if I talk to you?" he said in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

Bruce stared, just stared at Wally for an unnerving minute before giving him an imperceptible nod and going back to gazing into the fireplace.

Wally swallowed once before explaining all about that day in the Watchtower. The day _he_ had given Dick the anorexia, and how he had kept it a closely-guarded secret all this time. The thought was almost too much for him to bear.

"…and so I just thought you should know," the boy finished up.

But Bruce said nothing. Just stared into the fireplace as if he hadn't heard a word that had just been said, although Wally hoped he had been paying attention.

"I didn't mean to make him sick," Wally said to fill the void. "I was just kidding around, the way we always do… or did… I'm sorry."

Still Bruce said nothing.

Wally looked down at his feet. It wasn't like he had expected Bruce to forgive him. He hadn't even expected the man to _say _anything, but it disturbed him more than he would have liked to admit.

_Then put yourself in his shoes, _Wally chastised himself. _If you had a kid, and somebody all but killed him, would **you** forgive that somebody?_

Just as he turned to leave, a low voice came from the figure in front of the fireplace, so low that Wally almost thought he was imagining things.

"It's not your fault, Wally."

The red-head slowly turned to face Dick's guardian, who was still staring into the dying flames before him.

"This started long before then."

Wally blinked, unsure how to respond.

"I don't—" he started, but Bruce interrupted.

"Contrary to what you seem to think, I noticed there was something wrong with Dick. Even before you did."

Wally blushed at this but said nothing.

"Why do you think we've been arguing so much lately?" Bruce went on, sounding remorseful. Not _very_ remorseful, but enough so to catch his audience off-guard. "I was criticizing him for being too thin. So he started eating more. Trying to please _me_, as usual."

Wayne smiled a little at this. A sad, reminiscent kind of a smile.

"After a while, I noticed he ate more when he seemed upset about something. That should have clued me in that something was wrong. But it didn't. I figured it was just a phase that teenagers go through, and that he'd get over it once he grew up a little more."

Wally stood there, too startled by Wayne's confession to speak.

"I later found out that Dick's strange eating habits had evolved into Compulsive Overeating—another eating disorder."

Wally nodded. He'd studied that, too.

"One morning, I commented that he'd gained weight. I meant it in a good way. But Dick's been thin his entire life, so I guess he just… panicked and went the other way."

There was another pause as both parties relived the horrible memories of the past few months, trying to get just the vaguest idea of how Dick must have felt… how he must be feeling at that very moment.

"I didn't recognize the signs. I just scolded him, trying to get him to eat. Dick refused. I didn't take that very well."

Wayne finally stood, still without looking directly at Wally. It wasn't until he walked over to the boy and placed a hand on his shoulder that he turned to fix Wally with the same stare he had when the boy first came in. Wally just stood there looking up at the man, awed.

"It's not your fault," Wayne said in a low voice. "_It's mine._"

Wally suddenly found himself alone in the big room, with only the soft glow of the embers in the fireplace for company.

---

"It's not your fault, Bruce."

Dr. Leslie stood up from where she had been watching over Dick as he slept. Bruce had come upstairs just a few moments ago to check on his ward, but Leslie, having known the man since before his parents' murder, could see the guilt he was so desperately trying to hide.

"There were many factors that played a part in this. We all know how critical Dick is of himself, how he's always pushing himself to do better. Plus there's genetics…"

"Environment," Wayne added bleakly. Leslie gave him a look, but said nothing. He had a point. Environment usually played a big part in the development and progression of eating disorders. She suspected that Dick's case was no exception.

"And the only reason he pushes himself so hard is because I make him," Bruce went on. His gaze drifted to the sleeping boy in the bed, but he quickly turned his head away. Just knowing _he_ had done that to the boy…

Leslie sighed and changed the subject.

"Make sure you keep him warm, Bruce," she said quietly. "He's a pretty sick young man, and the last thing he needs now is a cold or flu on top of everything else."

Bruce didn't give any indication that he had heard, or even that he was paying attention to what she was saying.

With a sigh, Leslie picked up her bag and left the room. She'd tell Alfred to take all necessary precautions against illness on her way out.

But, unfortunately, her warning came too late. A couple of days later, Dr. Thompkins found herself back at the Manor. Alfred had called her there when Master Dick became violently ill after what little breakfast they'd managed to get into him.

"I was afraid of this," she sighed while gazing at the thermometer. One hundred one point six. Not good. "The eating disorders left him weak, highly susceptible to illness. And I'm sure that wandering the streets in the pouring rain in the middle of the night was no help."

"What is it, Leslie?" Bruce demanded, sounding impatient. He was sitting next to Dick on the boy's bed. Dick had his eyes closed, making it look like he was asleep, but Leslie could tell he was listening. His thin face was covered in sweat, and he was clinging to his guardian's shirt, like he was afraid Bruce would leave him if he let go. As if.

Well, no sense in beating around the bush.

"Stomach virus."

Bruce looked down at the emaciated boy in his arms, only half-listening to Leslie as she explained that this virus had been going around lately. Why Dick, he wondered? Why did the poor kid have to get sick _now_, just when he was about to start getting better? Hadn't he been through enough?

_Why? _

"How long will it last?" Bruce interrupted the doctor.

"Probably about a week," she reluctantly sighed. Bruce pursed his lips and said nothing as the words rang repeatedly through his head. _A week._ A week of high temperatures and coughing…

A week of not wanting to eat.

A week of throwing up what he did eat.

A week of losing weight.

_Losing weight! _The boy had already lost more than forty-five pounds! How was his body going to react to losing more? Could he even _survive_ an illness like this?

Of course he would. Bruce would make sure of that.

---

"Stomach virus?!" Speedy yelled incredulously.

They were at the Tower, discussing how the Titans would have to be restructured until—and _if_—Robin returned to his position in the group. Batgirl had been invited because, well, she said so, that's why. Besides, she was closest to Dick as far as geography was concerned and could keep the others abreast of their leader's health. Unfortunately, her first day as 'resident health examiner' had only brought bad news to the Titans.

"That's what Doc Leslie says," Batgirl conceded.

A quiet sob was heard, and everyone turned to see that Starfire was crying to herself on the couch. A teary-eyed Wonder Girl promptly moved to her side and held her gently as the male Titans just stood around, stunned.

"_Stomach_ virus…" Speedy repeated, as if in a trance.

"How bad is it?" asked Beast Boy.

"What do _you_ care? You're the one who voted to keep him in the group even though you _knew_ he was sick."

"Shut up and quit acting like a know-it-all, Speedy!" Cyborg put in hotly. "You didn't know he was sick, either!"

"I didn't _ask_ for your help," Beast Boy told him coldly.

"I don't think now is a good time for this argument," Raven hinted. Then, turning to Batgirl, she repeated Beast Boy's question.

"How bad _is _it?"

"…It's bad," Batgirl told them evasively. "The doctor says he hasn't been able to keep anything down all day, not even water… It's bad."

Temporarily choking back her tears, Starfire queried, "H-He is going to be alright, is he not? He will recover from the virus and from the disorder of eating and then… then he will be alright again, won't he?"

Kid Flash turned his head away, knowing the odds were that things would never go back to being the way they had been. He knew there was even a chance that Dick would _never_ make a complete recovery, and Barbara knew it, too.

_Something_ had to change.

Wonder Girl just leaned her head against Starfire's as Batgirl whispered, "I hope so, Star. I hope so…"

---

"No! I said I'm not hungry!"

"Dick, you have to eat something…"

"_No!_"

Bruce sighed and tried to keep his temper from getting the best of him as Dick's refusal was punctuated by a hacking cough. He was trying with the kid—he was really trying—but Dick was just impossible these days! Sure he was sick, but his constant tantrums and outright refusals to accept meals were beginning to grate on Bruce's nerves.

"I know you're not feeling well," Bruce told him, somewhat patiently, "but you have to keep your strength up. You _have_ to eat _something_."

"What's the point?" Dick snapped. "I'm just gonna throw it up anyway!" Leaning wearily against the pillows, he murmured, "What's the point?"

"So that's it. You're giving up, then."

"I _tried _and I _failed_, okay?"

Bruce shook his head. No sense in pushing it—Dick would just become more agitated and make everything worse.

Someone knocked gently on the bedroom door, and Alfred entered as soon as Bruce called his permission.

"A certain aquatic young gentleman wishes to visit with Master Dick," the butler announced. Both Bruce and Dick knew he was talking about Garth.

"You feel up to a visit, Dick?" Bruce asked.

Dick just shrugged.

"Because if you don't, just say so and Garth can come back some other time."

Again, Dick shrugged.

"Send him up," Bruce instructed Alfred. The butler nodded, and then they both left the room. It only took Garth about a minute or two to climb the stairs and appear in the doorway of Dick's bedroom.

"May I come in?" the Atlantean questioned.

"Sure, why not?"

Garth took a few tentative steps forward. Dick's answer hadn't exactly sounded like he meant it. It sounded more like he felt obligated to say it.

"I… I heard you were sick," Garth went on. "I came to see how you were."

"Thanks."

That was when Garth noticed the bowl of uneaten soup sitting on Dick's nightstand.

"I'm sorry—did I interrupt your meal?"

"_No._"

Looks like he hit a sore spot. He should have known that; Dick had an _eating_ disorder, for crying out loud. Of course he was touchy about food.

Before Garth could change the subject, Dick asked him, "How did the Titans meeting go? Babs told me you had one scheduled for today… to decide who's gonna be the new leader."

This wasn't going to be a fun conversation.

"Um, yes. Yes, we did have such a meeting."

"So who's my replacement?"

"Nobody can ever replace you. Robin is and always will be our leader," Garth patiently explained. "We simply need someone to maintain order among the—"

"Yeah, yeah, cut the niceties, Garth. Get to the point," Dick interrupted curtly. "Who's my replacement?"

Garth took a shaky breath, dreading Dick's reaction to hearing who his 'replacement' would be. But he held his head high and stated in a calm, steady tone, "The Titans have decided that Aqualad should perform as leader until Robin is ready to reappear."

Dick hardly missed a beat before answering, "At least it's not Speedy. Congratulations, Garth, you'll make a good leader."

"No, I won't!" the other boy insisted. "The Titans do not have the same respect for me as they have for you! I know it may not seem as if Speedy holds you in very high regard, but he _does_." Then, in a somewhat embarrassed tone, Garth added, "All he ever does to acknowledge me is to call me Gillhead."

"He calls _me_ Birdboy," grumbled Dick.

"Fish Face."

"Short Pants."

"Orca Brains."

"Wonder Breath."

"…Got me there," Garth imitated Roy, smiling. Dick gave an uneasy half-smile in return, but it vanished just a second before he started coughing uncontrollably. Garth didn't quite know what to do, so he reached for the bowl and sat down on the very edge of Dick's bed.

"Just calm down, Dick," he said soothingly. "You will never any get better if you do not eat…"

For a split-second, Dick looked like he might accept the spoonful of broth that was being offered. But then he realized what Garth was actually doing and turned his head away.

"No."

"Just a little, Dick."

"C'mon, Garth, lay off me, will you? If I eat that stuff I'll just throw it right back up again, and then I'll feel worse than before!" Dick claimed. "Not that that's possible…"

"There, you see? You will be no worse off than you are now. You must eat," insisted Garth.

They went on in this fashion for several minutes—Garth, quietly urging Dick to eat… and Dick, insisting and even tearfully begging his friend not to make him.

"Garth, please… I_ can't_," Dick cried. He bowed his head, ashamed to be caught sobbing like a baby in front of Garth.

"Yes you can…"

"_No…_"

"Just a little, Dick…"

"_Please,_ I…"

"Just try. You can do it, Dick, I promise you can…"

Eventually, Garth's quiet patience paid off, and he got Dick to swallow several mouthfuls of Alfred's chicken soup.

---

Bruce watched silently from the doorway as their Atlantean guest gently spoon-fed his sick friend. He felt a twinge of envy as he watched the two interact. Garth had just succeeded where he had failed. He had gotten Dick eating again. Not a lot, to be sure, and the poor kid would almost certainly bring it all up again soon enough.

But the fact remained—

Dick trusted Garth more than he trusted his own legal guardian.

Well, Robin and Aqualad had worked together on a near-daily basis. And as far as Robin was concerned, all of the Titans (including himself) were equals, all working together. A relationship like that took plenty of trust.

And what was the relationship between the Caped Crusaders? Batman gave the orders. Robin followed them. End of story. They still needed to trust each other, but to a lesser extent.

And now, because of that, there wasn't even a Robin anymore. There might _never_ be a Robin ever again.

_No!_ Bruce gave himself a mental slap. He refused to think like that. Not for as long as Dick was still breathing. The kid could weigh only fifty pounds and he _still_ wouldn't give up on him.

Dick was going to live.

That was not a prediction.

That was a _fact_.

Even as Bruce thought this and headed downstairs, he could hear Dick starting to throw up into the trash can…

---

Dick's condition got no better during the next few days. He was able to keep very little down, no matter how weak the food was or how small the amount of water. Before a half-hour passed, and probably before that, he had brought it all back up. Dick was starting to lose weight again; they were running out of options.

Finally, with great reluctance, Dr. Thompkins made a suggestion that she knew would not go over well with her young patient…

"A _hospital?" _Dick repeated. Surely he was hearing things. "You want to admit me to a _hospital,_ just because I've got a stupid stomach virus?"

"It's not just the virus, dear," Leslie said in her gentlest voice. "It's the eating disorders. I'm afraid that that _combined _with the stomach virus, your body can no longer handle solid foods. The only way you'll be able to get better is in a hospital where they'll be able to give you the proper treatment that we can't give you here."

_And besides that, they'll be able to prevent any more suicide attempts_, she silently added.

The expression on Dick's face remained neutral as Bruce expressed his agreement. Was he going to believe all this sentimental stuff? Heck no. He knew the _real_ reason they were sending him to the hospital—they wanted him out of the way. They wanted their lives back, and using their power as legal adults to force him into the hospital was the best way to do it…

_Oh, shut up, you liar! That's not true and we both know it! _

Or was it…?

"Well," Dick said aloud, "if you think that's what's best, then I'll go."

Bruce and Leslie exchanged brief glances. Being so compliant was just not in Dick's character, and having the eating disorders should have made him all the more stubborn. There was obviously something more going on here… but first things first.

And so they made the preparations to transfer the boy to Gotham General Hospital.

* * *

**Was that a bad chapter? I think it was... I'm SO sorry!! (acts like Ritsu from _Fruits Basket_)**

**BTW, relax. Dickie gets over the flu by next chapter. I just needed an excuse for that scene with Dick and Garth :) There's your plot spoiler for the day. Be happy.**

**Okay, so it's June, so Bruce probably wouldn't have a fire going at that time of year. Let's just say that it's unusually cold for that time of year. O.o And yes, Dickie's problems started as compulsive overeating (or compulsive eating, or binge eating disorder...). Surprised? I hinted at it, actually, but I explain later. Muahahaha.**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**steelelf-**That's a nice song. Never seen the movie, but the song is nice. As for saying Wally's cussing is appropriate, I somehow doubt my mother would agree with you. ;-P

**WCUGirl-**Thanks for reviewing! I really appreciate all the comments. LOL, I guess Bruce is kinda dense when it comes to Dick sometimes, but it's just because he cares, I suppose. Like that made sense...

**JLAfan-**That was actually the first scene I wrote for this story. The other hundred-fifty pages sorta sprang up around it. ;) I'm glad to hear you enjoyed it so much, even if it was in a sad sort of way.

**AdrenalineRush-**I like Barbara, too. Well, except Alicia Silverstone, but that's another story. (shivers) Anyway, yes, the fic has been finished--that's how I can guarantee weekly updates!

**Lil' Kanny-**Well, maybe I do have a little evil streak. Hee hee...

**caltha-**Wally's one of my favorites, too. He's funny! And yeah, those two need to have a VERY long talk. Although to Bruce, a 'long' talk about his feelings would probably last all of two minutes :)

**Boleyn-**Actually, relapses are a common part of recovery. I think I just gave away my next subplot, but anyway, thanks for the review!

**Balance in the Dark-**Yippee, another new reviewer!! Thank you! This story has got to be the most depressing thing I've ever written. Then again, it's a depressing subject. Most of the scary stuff should be over now, though (maybe).

**The BatThing-**Well, maybe now that Dick has admitted he's got a problem (or several), he can start to help himself out a little more. But don't think we've seen the last of Wally, either...

**SarahC4321-**No, Dick isn't the only one suffering here. And I think, somewhere deep (deep, _deep_) down, Dick knows that Bruce cares about him. He just doesn't feel like he deserves it.

**kokomocalifornia-**Ah, thank you! XD

**Crazy Insomaniac-**That's okay. You're here now. Eh, a hug may have worked about a year earlier, but I think now it'll take a lot more than that now. Couldn't hurt, though! (pokes Bruce)

**steelphoenix-**Thank you! Sounds like I've done my job right, then :)

**PlatinumRoseLady-**I think he can, too! Dick's stubborn; if he just channels that stubbornness into recovery instead of what he sees in the mirror... granite, yeah, LOL. There's a new word!

**SparklesPlenty-**Technically, Dick could still 'drop dead', even after he starts recovery. Sadly, no, Speedy, he hasn't learned his lesson yet. And about Sanjaya's success, it can be attributed to two thing--preteen girls and a website called 'Vote for the Worst'. Or so says my sister.

**ShockMePeter-**I forgive you--I hope you had a great time! But just what did you think was too fluff about the last chapter? I really want to know so I don't do it again :)

**xXxQuothxXx-**Hey, don't give up your social life on account of me! But I LOVED Kid Flash in the animated series! He should have been a regular member. Where did you see that art? I wanna take a peek...


	23. The Interview

**Okay, there is a slight (_slight_) possibility that my next update will be on the 29th instead of the 28th. It all depends on how I feel after coming home from vacation and how much time I have. Oh, and this is my first attempt at writing Clark Kent's editor. I did research, but I'm not sure I got it right... I'll let you decide. I probably won't be writing him in again for a good long time, but any tips will be welcome :)**

**BTW, I don't know how they act at a hospital, I just made it up because I haven't been a patient in one since... since I was born, actually. O.o**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Interview

Six days after Dick was admitted to the hospital, Clark Kent was called into the office of the Daily Planet's editor-in-chief. It wasn't often Clark was called in that way; it must be something important.

"Is there something wrong, sir?" Clark asked, slipping perfectly into his 'mild-mannered reporter' persona.

"Hm? Oh, no, nothing's wrong, Kent," Perry White replied. "I just want you to go out on special assignment. There's a story breaking in Gotham City, and we need you to get the full story."

White saw the look on the reporter's face as he explained the situation. Not knowing that the other man had friends in Gotham, White asked, "You _do_ know where that is, don't you, Kent?"

"…Yes, of course, sir."

"Good! Now I want you to head out there to the General Hospital and try to get an interview with a…"

White shuffled through some papers.

"…a Dick Grayson—some teenage kid who was unfortunate enough to get an eating disorder and who nobody would care about except for the fact that he happens to be the ward of one of the world's richest men."

Clark raised his eyebrows in a gesture of surprise. Hospital? When had _that_ happened, and when did they plan on telling _him _about it? Why did he have to find it out from his _boss,_ for crying out loud? He'd called the manor to check on Dick, of course, but he'd always just been told that Dick was fine and wasn't up for a visit—nothing about a _hospital_…

"Your job," White went on, "is to get over there and get an interview with the Grayson boy and any friends and/or family members before every other paper in the country finds out about this."

White turned his back to Clark, who was not about to be dismissed so easily. If that man thought he was going to torment Dick just for a silly, stupid interview, he had another thing coming! The kid had enough on his mind!

"Mr. White? I don't think I'm the one for this job."

Clark's boss turned around to look at his employee with confusion and annoyance evident in his face.

"Well why not?"

Clark took a moment to collect his thoughts and tried not to sound _too_ confident as he argued, "Mr. White, the Daily Planet has never been like the tabloids, and I don't think we should start now by going out to investigate some idle rumor about a popular tabloid target!"

Perry White gave Kent a look. Kent wasn't usually the kind of man to talk back or even speak up to his boss. He must feel pretty strongly about this subject to take such a stand… maybe he knew someone who had an eating disorder, White figured. That would explain the touchiness, anyway.

"This is not 'some idle rumor', Mr. Kent," said White. "A few _reliable_ Gotham City reporters have confirmed it. Fortunately for us, Olsen was vacationing in Gotham when he overheard them discussing the story."

Just wait until Superman caught up with Jimmy Olsen. Normally, he liked the young photographer, but this was unacceptable, even if Olsen was just doing his job.

Well, maybe he _should _go get that interview. If he didn't, White would probably just send somebody else, somebody who might not be as understanding about eating disorders in males, or eating disorders _period_. I mean, at least he _knew_ Dick. Maybe the kid would be less stressed and more understanding if somebody he knew conducted this darned interview.

Time to put on the ol' mild-mannered reporter act.

"Well I apologize, Mr. White, I didn't know that. I'll get to work on it right away."

---

Dick sat in his room at the hospital, brooding in a way that would put his mentor to shame. His stomach virus was pretty much just an unpleasant memory, and he'd only been in the hospital for about a week, but he already hated it there.

At least he had the room to himself. And he still got to see Bruce on a regular basis; Dick had heard that, during the beginning of inpatient treatment for eating disorders, the patient wasn't always allowed to see the family. But, in Dick's case, for whatever reason, he was still allowed to see his little 'family'. Bruce could be a real pain in the rear sometimes, but deep down, Dick was always kind of glad to see the man.

And that was where the good things ended. The door to the bathroom was padlocked; if he wanted to use it, he had to call for the nurse to unlock it. Worse yet, the nurse would _watch_ him as he did his business, just to make sure he didn't try to ram a finger down his throat. Ha! Like he'd actually be stupid enough to try a stunt like that with somebody watching.

But Dick still felt that urgent need to get rid of the food the nurses were shoving into him.

Well, he wasn't a trained crime-fighter for nothing. He could pick locks. Why hadn't he thought of that sooner? Sure, it would mean going without the ipecac and using the old-fashioned finger method again, but he'd use whatever he had to.

Glancing around, Dick pushed the covers away and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Then, checking one last time to ensure he was alone, he eased himself into a standing position.

As soon as his feet hit the floor, the entire room began to swim before Dick's eyes. The floor seemed to tilt one way and there were at least three bathroom doors and…

Dick groaned and collapsed back onto the bed.

Geez, why was this _happening_ to him? He was weaker and more helpless than a newborn kitten!

Things weren't supposed to turn out this way, Dick reflected as he stared up at the ceiling. He could almost see Bruce standing in front of him with the same look in his eyes that he'd had when Leslie told them about the stomach virus. For the first time, it seemed, Dick was noticing the pain and anguish in those deep blue eyes, and all the worry that had been caused by those two little words.

But the image was distorted quickly, and Dick could just as easily imagine those eyes to be filled with anger, hatred, _disgust_…

Dick groaned again. He rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow, trying to will the image away.

His concentration was broken when the phone rang.

The boy looked up reluctantly and reached out a hand to pick up the darn thing.

"Yeah?"

"Dick? That really is you, isn't it?"

It took Dick a moment to recognize the disappointed yet resigned voice on the other end of the line.

"Clark?"

"Yes, it's me… how long have you been there, kiddo?"

"A week."

Clark made a disgusted noise.

"Look, Dick, I'm sorry for taking this long to call you, but I didn't even _know_ about it until this morning—and I'll be talking to Bruce about that. In fact, I wouldn't even know about it _now_ if my boss hadn't told me."

"Well how did _he_ know?" Pause. "Oh, no…"

"Yeah. And it gets worse."

Dick barely even blinked as Clark explained the situation in his usual considerate, soothing manner. An interview? Well, he should have known this would happen eventually. They wanted an interview to sell their crummy papers? So he'd give 'em an interview.

"…I don't want you to feel any pressure here," Clark finished up as Dick pretended to listen. "If you would really rather not do the interview, or if you want someone else to do it, just say so and I'll take care of it. Understand?"

Of course he didn't want to give this stupid interview! He _hated _giving interviews! And what did he mean, 'no pressure'? Of course there was pressure! If Clark didn't get this interview, he might lose his job—hey, yeah, that was it. He didn't care about anything except saving his—

_How many times do I have to tell you?! Shut up already! Just shut up! Clark is one of the nicest people I know, so shut up! Insulting me is one thing, but insulting my friends is another! You got that?_

"It's okay, Clark, thanks. When are you gonna be here?"

"Whenever is convenient for you, kiddo," Clark replied, relief evident in his tone. At least the boy hadn't started getting all upset over this. The last thing Clark wanted to do was make the poor kid any more upset than he already was.

"Um… is tomorrow afternoon good for you? That'll give me time to convince Bruce not to kill you for this."

Ouch. He'd forgotten about Bruce. Clark may have had superpowers, but even he didn't want to risk getting Bruce mad, especially not now when everybody was still reeling from the shock of discovering Dick's eating disorders.

"I'll be there at three. And if you change your mind before then, let me know. I'm at the Holiday Inn downtown, okay?"

"I got it. See you tomorrow, Clark."

Dick hung up the phone and moved to pull the blankets back up. That hospital room was surprisingly cold for June, at least for someone who was underweight and had almost no body fat to keep him warm.

As Dick sat there, bored half out of his mind, he suddenly thought of something he needed to do. He'd been putting it off for a while because the Voices kept yelling at him that he had absolutely no reason to do it. But he had rebelled against them just now, telling them to lay off Clark, so they were already yelling at him anyway. May as well give them something to _really_ yell about.

And so, he picked up the telephone again and dialed Barry Allen's number.

---

Barry, Iris, and Wally had just finished lunch when the call came through. When Barry hung up the phone two minutes later, Wally asked, "Who was it?"

"That was Dick. Says he wants to talk to you."

Wally paled considerably. Dick wanted to talk to _him?_

Barry wasn't the least bit surprised to find that his nephew was so apprehensive about visiting his former leader. Heck, even _he _got a little nervous when visiting Wayne's ward. He'd only seen the kid once so far, but according to the others, you never knew how he was going to act—he would either be so depressed that he'd say a total of two words to you the entire visit (if that many), or he'd fly off the handle the second you opened your mouth. And if it was the latter, he might feel bad about snapping your head off and start to tear up. Either way, it didn't equal a happy visit.

But no matter what Dick's mood was, you could always find Bruce there, apparently. Barry was beginning to doubt that the man ever left the hospital or even the boy's room other than when someone else came to visit. He had always suspected that Bruce liked his kid, but… wow.

Then Barry noticed that the expression on Wally's face hadn't changed.

"You'd better get down there," Barry advised. Wally had yet to even _see_ Dick at the hospital, and the sooner he got the first visit over with, the better. Why Wally had procrastinated this long was beyond him…

"Huh? Oh… do I have to?"

"Well, Dick _is_ one of your closest friends, and you know he'd come to visit you if _you _were sick…"

_Man, Uncle Barry sure knows how to take you on a guilt trip!_

The boy cringed and grumbled, "Okay, okay, I'm going…"

Wally was at Gotham General Hospital in, well, a flash, and immediately walked straight up to the receptionist in the lobby.

"Um, excuse me… miss? Ca-Can you tell me which room Dick Grayson is in?"

"Your name, please?"

"Wally. Wally West."

She glanced at a Post-It® Note attached to the computer in front of her and said, "Ah yes, Dick mentioned that he was expecting you. He said he wanted you to go right up. Alright then, that'll be Room 75 on the fourth floor."

"Thank you."

He was the only one in the elevator, which gave him plenty of room to pace nervously as it crept up to the fourth floor, bringing him closer to Room 75. What did Dick want him for, anyway? Couldn't he just talk to him over the phone or something?

The elevator gave a little 'ding' as it came to a stop. Wally dragged his feet as he walked down the hall, but since Room 75 was only about two doors from the elevator, even that didn't help much.

Wally chanced a peek through the little window in the door. Dick was alone, sitting half-reclined on the bed reading what looked like The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire.

_Sheesh, does this guy __**never **__get a vacation?_

"Um… hey, Dick…"

Wally hovered uncertainly in the doorway, watching as Dick's tired blue eyes turned to give him the once-over. Sure, Dick had invited him here in the first place, but he was so darned moody that he very well could have changed his mind in the ten seconds it had taken Wally to get there.

But no. Dick just jerked his head in a way that indicated he wanted Wally to come closer. Wally obeyed very slowly. In spite of Bruce's words to him earlier that month, Wally still couldn't help but feel as if he were to blame for this…

The two boys stared at each other for a moment in awkward silence. This was the first time they had been face to face since Wally had found Dick on that rooftop on Gotham's east side.

"So how's it going?" Wally finally asked.

"I'm in the _hospital_. How do you _think_ it's going?"

Wally cringed visibly at this remark.

"Actually," Dick continued, "that's the reason I called you over. I wanted to thank you for putting me here."

Wally's eyes widened in horror. He knew! Dick remembered that day in the Watchtower—he remembered what Kid Flash had told him, and now he blamed him for giving him the eating disorder! Geez… blaming _himself _was bad enough, but having _Dick_ blame him _too_…

"No, I'm serious," Dick insisted upon seeing the look on Wally's face. "I really wanted to thank you. If you hadn't kicked some sense into my thick skull I probably would have gotten myself killed by now trying to do some stupid stunt that only Superman could pull off while a couple dozen pounds underweight."

So that wasn't sarcasm? That was… Wait…

"Did you just say _under_weight?" Wally blurted out before he could stop himself. And this time, it was Dick who winced.

"You have ears, don't you?" he said softly. "You'd be surprised what having your brain picked can do to a person."

"Huh?"

"_Therapy_, West, _therapy_. And I'm _still_ not sure I believe all that stuff they've been ramming down my throat."

"…Oh…"

Wally couldn't help but notice that Dick practically spat out the word 'therapy' as if he hated it.

"Wally."

"Yeah?"

"I owe you one."

The red-head grinned and replied, "The only thing I want out of _you_, pal, is for you to get well again. Think you can handle that?"

"With guys like you backing me up, I know I can. Think you can put up with me for the next few months?"

Wally's grin just got wider, and he was suddenly feeling a whole lot better about the world.

"You're on!"

That was the last time Wally saw Dick smile for a long, long time.

---

As soon as he walked into Dick's room that afternoon, Clark figured he'd better delay that little talk he'd planned on having with Bruce. The look on Bruce's face was enough to scare the Joker away. Clearly, he was less than thrilled with this whole interview idea.

However, lucky for Clark, Bruce didn't do anything. He didn't even say anything as he brushed past the Daily Planet reporter and disappeared down the hall.

"Sorry 'bout him, Clark," Dick apologized, sounding meek.

Clark gave the boy a smile, all the while wondering why Dick looked so much thinner than he remembered.

"He's only worried about you. I can understand that. Mind if I sit?"

Dick shook his head, and Clark sat down in the chair by the bed. He noted that it was still warm from when someone else had been sitting there. He didn't even have to ask who it had been.

"Now look. If you ever want to stop at any time, or if you don't want to answer a question, speak up, okay?"

Dick nodded but knew he could never risk Clark's job just for his own comfort.

"Okay…"

Clark took a deep breath and opened the notebook he'd brought with him. In the hotel room, he'd spent an entire sleepless night trying to come up with appropriate questions. As he looked down at the notes, he suddenly realized that his hand must have been shaking as he wrote.

"Well I already know your name and how old you are, so we can just skip those… how long have you suffered from these disorders?"

"You mean, like, how long have I exhibited symptoms? 'Bout ten, eleven months, I guess. I don't remember. Seems like forever."

The man sucked in his breath unintentionally. Dick had been doing this for eleven months?! It had taken them _this_ long to do something about it? No wonder the poor kid was depressed—he probably felt as if nobody cared about him, and since it had taken everybody this long to notice, he had probably figured he was _right_.

"Do you remember when you first began to develop them?"

Dick took a moment before answering that question.

"I don't know if it was an exact _moment_, Clark, but I guess it really started when my parents were killed. After all the drama associated with that, it kinda snowballed from there, I guess. Nobody ever really taught me good 'coping skills', or whatever—I mean, Bruce is hardly the person to teach a guy coping skills, am I right?—and since I've always been picky about food, it sorta came naturally to try to deal with my problems—or rather, _not_ deal with them—through my eating habits."

"But you aren't sure about that?"

"No. Hey, I've only been in this stupid recovery program for all of six days! What do you expect? A miracle?"

It was there that Clark realized he'd have to be careful about what he believed. As much as he'd love to trust the boy explicitly, he knew that Dick could very well just be parroting what he'd heard from his psychiatrist (or psychologist or whoever it was he was seeing) on matters concerning his recovery. Maybe talking to his psychiatrist wouldn't be a bad idea, either—he'd ask for the name later.

Clark was about to apologize for asking that question when Dick went on, "But then again, sitting in a hospital bed all day long gives you plenty of time to think about things."

"And that's what you think about?"

"Not much else I _can_ think about, except how I can sneak into the bathroom to throw up my food… I didn't mean that. You're not gonna print it, are you?"

"Of course not."

But he'd be sure to alert Bruce to the boy's attitude. Have someone keep a close eye on him to make sure he didn't do anything. He knew Dick could easily pick the lock on the restroom door if he had a mind to, and he clearly had a mind to.

"How long have you known that your eating habits were more than just dieting?"

"You mean how long have I known I've got issues."

This time when Dick rephrased the question, it was no longer a question. It was a definitive statement.

"If you like," Clark replied, trying to be agreeable.

"I suspected something was up when I got desperate enough to use the ipecac… but I sorta pushed those feelings aside until Wally finally put things in perspective. Wally West, that is."

"How did he do that?"

"He cursed at me… you're not gonna tell anyone about that, are you?"

"Hey, he saved your life. I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to."

"Good. I wouldn't want him to get in trouble with his aunt and uncle or anything…" Dick muttered.

Clark smiled sadly at the boy's thoughtfulness and continued with his interview.

"Oh, and Clark?" Dick suddenly piped up. "Sorry to interrupt, but I really have to tell you something. Now."

"Sure. What is it?"

"Um… that day you let me go home… I promised to tell Bruce as soon as I could. But really, I… I had absolutely no plans to tell Bruce anything," Dick confessed. "As soon as I left, all I could think about was how I could trick you into thinking I'd kept that promise. I'm sorry, Clark—I wish I could say I didn't know what I was doing, but then I'd just be lying again. I knew exactly what I was doing."

"Dick, don't worry about it. Bruce knows now, and that's all that matters."

"But still…" the boy insisted, shaking his head, "I _used_ you, and everybody else, too. I did whatever it took to keep feeding my habit—if you'll excuse the pun."

Clark smirked against his will; he knew this wasn't a laughing matter, but just now, for a second there, Dick had been acting like… like nothing had changed. Like he was the same old carefree kid he'd been only a year before.

Dick didn't seem to mind Clark's minor faux pas, though. He knew the man wasn't laughing at him. He even managed a very small, understanding smile in return.

* * *

**So Sanjaya lost. Now I don't have to tell my mom I cussed! My fanfiction account is SAVED! SAVED I TELL YOU!!**

**(cough) Ah-hem. Here are the replies:**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**steelelf-**I like Garth. I like his outfit on the cartoon, too. And yeah, what do parents know?! Well, mine is smart enough to let me on the Tower of Terror at Disneyworld next week, so I'd better not say anything. Shhh!! ;-D

**Gohanzgirl-**(looks up viral meningitis) Eww, gross, disgusting!! I think I'll stick with the infection in my foot, thanks. O.o Anyway, thanks for the review!

**Simone1-**Hey, new reviewer! Alright! Thanks for reviewing!! XD

**AdrenalineRush-**If I were a Titan, I would have voted for Wonder Girl as leader, to be honest. Maybe Aqualad just had a better campaign manager :-P Hey, thanks for the suggestion! I love Magic Kingdom... they have Splash Mountain. (heart eyes)

**kokomocalifornia-**Thanks. 8) Bruce and Dick moments are coming... fairly soon. First I'm gonna focus a wee bit on Dick and his other friends.

**Boleyn-**Bruce and Dick are, uh... working on it. And thank you, I'm sure I'll be having a _very_ good time. Disneyworld is my favorite place ever.

**Balance in the Dark-**Heh. Yeah. Robin-torture's my favorite. If that make me evil, so be it. :-D I'm glad you like the fic, though!

**caltha-**I don't know why Wally turned out to be the champion of this story, to be honest. It just ended up that way. Oh, well. I don't mind. (waves Wally pennant) Dick's hospital stay isn't really all that exciting, though. Next chapter's a little evil, I guess, but not really... (hint, hint)

**ShockMePeter-**Oooh, my own comic books!! Cool! Where's headquarters?! (pulls out map and compass) Kid Flash rocks. I saw the episode with him a few hours after I posted the last chapter, and he's hilarious.

**The BatThing-**Really? I could never imagine Garth as a leader until writing this fic, actually. He's a little too shy from what I heard. But hey, we'll see, no?

**Lil' Kanny-**Bruce blames himself too much. HE'S the one who should be in therapy!! (pokes) And, well, at least something good is coming of posting once a week--I teach people how to be more patient! I think someone should teach me the same thing, though...

**Wiley Card-**Really? Wow, thanks! Arizona? Sounds great!

**CrazyInsomaniac-**I got your message--Thank you! I can't really see a patient Bruce though. I mean, whenever he wants something, he just grabs the crook by the neck and threatens to toss 'em off I building until they give him the info he wants :)

**PlatinumRoseLady-**Oooh, yeah, that's really deep... me like. XD And yeah, I didn't think Babs would just sit around and let the team her friend had worked so hard on fall to pieces. Who cares if she's not a teen?

**reioyamada-**I don't know how many chapters this story will have. At least thirty, I guess. Plus an epilogue that will be posted separately. The epilogue is where I reveal whether Dick lives or not (insert maniacal evil cackling here)

**SarahC4321-**You're the second person to say that. Sorry if I seemed a little too over-the-top there; I tend to be really self-critical. :-P But thanks for the compliments!!

**gatogirl1-**I love Ritsu! Unfortunately, like Kid Flash, he was in only about one episode of the cartoon. (cries) About the treatment--I'm guessing Leslie thought of that already. But people with EDs who are seriously underweight and/or are in a suicidal state of mind (like Dick) are often sent to hospitals anyway, so... :)

**SparklesPlenty-**I usually forget about Barbara, too. XP Oh, don't worry, Speedy acts like a moron in a couple of chapters, as does Green Arrow. And there was some Superman in this chapter for you! He shows up again a little later, too. You're going to Disneyworld, too? What a coincidence!


	24. Ripples

**Thanks to the _Teen Titans_ episode 'Stranded' for the info on Starfire's powers. And kudos to Michael Landon for inspiring a scene in this chapter; it was practically lifted straight from the episode of _Little House on the Prairie_ when Albert is addicted to morphine (does anybody remember that, or am I just weird?). Anywho, on with the show!**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Twenty-Three: Ripples

The next day, the article on Dick Grayson's hospitalization had been printed as a human interest story in the Daily Planet. The news quickly spread to the biggest papers in the country and then inevitably made their way to the tabloids. Bruce had even read one article that claimed Dick had suffered a heart attack while in the hospital. Thankfully, _that_ story was one hundred percent false.

And, naturally, once these papers noticed that the Daily Planet had actually gotten an _interview _with Dick, every reporter in the country was banging down the door to get one as well. Someone had even started spreading the old false tale that said admitting you were a male anorexic was the same as admitting you were gay. There had always been rumors about indecent goings-on at Wayne Manor, and now those rumors just exploded, making the situation with the reporters even worse.

And who did Bruce blame for all this publicity? Clark Kent, of course. And he said so during Gar's visit.

"Oh, come on, it's not his fault," Dick insisted. He was trying to keep his temper under control, but between the tabloids and being forced to eat the foods he hated, it was getting harder. "It's like I told you—if what's-his-name from the Daily Planet hadn't stumbled upon this story, the tabloids might have gotten to it first and things would probably be even worse."

"And just how do you figure _that_?"

"Well if the story hadn't been introduced by a respectable paper, then people would have been exposed to the nonsense versions right off. At least everybody was able to read the _facts _first."

Even Bruce had to admit that Dick's reasoning was quite logical.

"Besides, it's not all bad," Gar piped up. He held up a letter from the mess of papers strewn across Dick's bed. "He's been getting lots of fan mail! Which, of course, leads to more bad news… we're gonna need a PR man to sort through all of this junk…"

"I never got this much mail back in the circus," Dick commented absently. He pulled out an envelope at random, opened it, and began to read the card inside.

"'Get Well Soon' card number 105… what do they think I've got? A cold?"

"At least most of the letters seem to be supportive…" Gar observed as optimistically as he could.

"And then, of course, we get _these_ little gems…"

Dick plucked a letter from the pile and began to read, "Mr. Grayson, I read about your so-called anorexia in the paper this morning. I think it's disgusting the way you're using such a horrible, life-threatening disease just to get the attention you don't need or deserve. I might have believed your charade if it weren't for the fact that only women can become anorexic. I can't stop you from committing these disgraceful acts, and I'm sure you don't have a conscience, you f—"

Bruce quickly snatched the letter away from his ward, took one glance at it, crumpled it up, and threw it into the garbage can.

"Wonderful, isn't it?" Dick said as sarcastically as he could.

"Don't worry, dude, it'll blow over as soon as the next big story comes along," Gar observed, promptly chucking two more offensive notes before Dick could get to them. "Look on the bright side—most of these notes are supportive, and some of them even thank you for admitting that you've got an eating disorder and teaching them about it."

"Yeah, well, I sure wish that someone would have taught _me_ about it before this whole mess started," Dick grumbled.

As soon as he said it, he regretted it. The look of guilt on Bruce's face was almost obvious, even to Gar. Dick opened his mouth to say something, but the man just tightened his jaw and left the room without a word.

Dick bowed his head and let out a sigh.

"Me and my big mouth… why can't I learn to keep my stupid mouth _shut_ already?" Dick admonished himself loudly.

"It's not your fault," Gar insisted.

"Maybe not, but now Bruce feels like it's _his_ fault—which it's not—but now he _thinks_ it is, and that _is_ my fault!"

Dick shrank back into the pillows as if trying to disappear. Then, in an almost inaudible whisper, he murmured, "Why can't I do anything _right_?"

Gar tried to put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

But Dick just pulled away.

Gar looked up to stare at the door that Bruce had just left through, and then averted his gaze to the bedspread. The two boys remained silent for a moment longer before Gar finally spoke up.

"Can I ask you something?"

Dick shrugged and looked at his friend expectantly, waiting for the question.

"Um… why?"

"Why… what?"

"Why… this?"

"Now how would _I_ know?"

"I don't know! I just thought… well, when Wally was _pestering_ us about eating disorders he kept babbling about how sometimes these things start because of, like… control issues?" Gar finished lamely.

"Control issues?" Dick asked. Gar sighed. Dick clearly had no idea what he was talking about.

"Yeah. Like, you know… like you didn't feel as if you had any control over anything… so you…"

"Oh. That."

The expression on Dick's face indicated that he suddenly understood and didn't like it.

"Um… something wrong?"

"Look, I know you read a lot about that 'control' stuff in textbooks," Dick explained, "and I guess it did feel kinda liberating at first. I thought I could control it, and that made me feel stronger. But then it ended up… controlling _me_ instead.

"Control? No way, pal. No way in hell."

Under normal circumstances, Dick probably would have laughed at the look on Gar's face when he uttered 'the h word'. Dick never used language like that unless he wanted to be punished by Alfred.

But now, he didn't even smile.

To ease the tension, Dick finally said, "Does that answer your question?"

Gar could only nod.

"Good. Now let's talk about something else." Lowering his voice to a whisper, Dick said, "Like what's been going on between Beast Boy and Cyborg."

Gar turned away to scowl at the floor.

"Who told you?"

"Nobody."

"It's that obvious?"

"Yeah. Listen, you had a difference of opinion. That's no reason to break up a friendship."

"Why would I want to have a friendship with that rusty pile of tin cans?" Gar snapped fiercely.

"Because if you don't, then who're you gonna waste your time playing video games with?"

"You like video games. I've seen you playing with _what's-his-name _when Batman lets you out of your cell every once in a while… hey, do you think it would be okay if I brought some games here and played with you? I bet we could rent a TV and a video game console no problem!"

"Gar, listen to me."

Dick started to sit up, but ended up closing his eyes and leaning back into the pillows. Finally, he opened his eyes again and said slowly, "You and Vic have been friends for a long time now, Gar. I know it was difficult for him to do what he did, but he was only doing what he felt he had to—for me. Just like you were. You just had different ideas of how to fix things, that's all. If I can forgive him and Rachel and Wally and Garth and even Roy for voting me out, then why can't you?"

"Because you're our _leader_. I don't care what the others say about how Aqualad's the new leader of the Titans, because he's _not_, and those guys didn't have any right to pull a mutiny like that! You should have _stopped_ them! Why didn't you?"

"I didn't think of it. Which proves Roy's point," Dick grudgingly confessed. "I wasn't fit to be leading you anywhere. Truth is, if they didn't vote me out when they did, there's a good chance that my stubbornness could have gotten you all killed by now."

Gar said nothing, surprised by Dick's admission. Seeing that his friend was at a loss for words, Dick told him, "Vic came to see me yesterday."

"He did? I mean… did he?" Gar quickly corrected, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

"Yes. He snuck in last night. It's hard enough explaining _you_ to the hospital staff let alone him. So he snuck in through the window to visit me."

"But… but you're on the fourth floor!"

"Do you care?"

Dick paused at the silence that met his question. Then, "Yes, Gar, I _am_ on the fourth floor. But he came to see me anyway. Bruce didn't admit it, but I think Vic scared the heck outta him when his face appeared in the window. But then Bruce left us alone and… we talked. He apologized for voting to expel me."

"He _should!_"

"And I told him he didn't need to apologize."

"Huh?"

"I just _told_ you, Gar," Dick said, rolling his eyes impatiently. "He was only doing what he'd been trained to do—to analyze a situation and proceed as he felt best. He was only doing what he had to."

"So you're saying we should, like, go back to being friends?" Gar concluded. Dick almost felt happy as he saw the hopeful light in the other boy's eyes.

"I'm not telling you to do anything. That's Garth's department now—whether you like it or not. What I _am _saying is that it's alright for you to be angry. I'm angry, too. Just don't let your apparent loyalty to Robin ruin any friendships, okay?"

_**Apparent**__ loyalty? What, does he think I'm just __**pretending**__to be—_

_Oh. Right. Eating disorder. Got it._

"I'll… think about it," Gar consented with a nod, pretending to ponder the matter. Dick nodded also, knowing that Gar had already made his decision.

"And Gar? About the video games… can I take a rain check on that? Right now I probably couldn't even hold the gamepad steady."

"No problem, dude. Just let me know when you're ready to be clobbered by the champ!"

"What an honor," Dick answered dryly.

As soon as Gar left the hospital, he headed straight for the Tower. He found Cyborg in the kitchen.

"Hey," Beast Boy called. "We gotta talk."

---

Barbara brought her car to a quick halt across the street from the hospital and checked her watch.

_Three fifty-five,_ she sighed in relief. _Just in time._

The hospital's visiting hours ended in five minutes, so she had just enough time to pay Dick a quick visit. She had wanted to drop by much earlier, but Dick had been tied up with other guests all day. Next time, she'd have to make a reservation; Dick sure was a popular kid. Not that she wasn't aware of that…

By the time she got up to Dick's room, she knew she'd only have a minute or two to visit with him. Barbara sighed a little in disappointment. She hadn't seen Dick at all for nearly six months, and now she'd only be able to talk to him for about two minutes? That wasn't fair at all!

She knocked lightly on the door and hoped he wasn't sleeping. The "Door's open" she received in reply to the knock was proof that her friend was indeed awake.

Sure enough, there he was, reading. He looked rather bored and seemed pleased to see Barbara Gordon standing in the doorway.

"Oh… hey, Babs, come on in. I wasn't expecting you," Dick greeted. He put his book aside as Barbara came closer. And as she came closer, she began to realize just how much trouble Dick had gotten himself into.

"Oh, Dick…" she breathed.

Suddenly embarrassed, Dick looked down at his lap. He began fiddling with his hands, a sign that he was getting nervous.

"Um, did you want something, Babs?" he mumbled.

Barbara shook her head slightly and pulled her eyes away from the bone-thin teenager before her.

"Well, you know," she said with a shrug, redirecting her gaze to the floor, "I just wanted to… say hi. See how you were doing."

"Well, thanks."

There was an uncomfortable pause. Then, "I missed you, Dick. While I was away at college, I mean. I couldn't wait to come home and see my family, my friends… and I couldn't wait to go bird-watching again."

Dick looked up, a confused expression gracing his face.

"You know…" Barbara said evasively with a smile. "We may have birds at my college, but there's this one very special breed of robin right here in Gotham that I—"

"Oh. I get it." He paused. "Hate to disappoint you, but there's a rumor going around that that particular robin is gone for the season."

Barbara bit her lip. That hadn't quite gone the way she had wanted it to.

"But _you're_ here," she said quietly.

Dick shrugged.

Barbara was suddenly surprised to find that she couldn't wait to leave. This wasn't the boy she had come to see. The others had been right. This was… someone else.

_Where are you, Dick? I know the real you has got to be in there somewhere… why are you hiding from me? Please let me in…_

She glanced at her watch to see that her two minutes were just about up.

"I have to go now, Shorty. Do you want me to bring you anything next visit?"

Dick shook his head. Barbara nodded in understanding and bent down to kiss him lightly on the forehead. Dick shifted slightly, looking embarrassed, but otherwise didn't acknowledge the caring gesture.

She ruffled his hair gently, whispered "See ya soon", and turned to leave, only to meet up with Bruce Wayne in the doorway.

"I was just on my way out," she explained. "I'll be back the day after tomorrow, if that's alright with Dick."

"Sure," Dick mumbled with a shrug.

"Alright then. Good-bye, you two!"

She left with a sunny smile, all the while wondering what could have possessed her to say she'd be coming back. Just those two minutes had been torture. Poor Dick… he'd just seemed so depressed and unsure of himself, almost _scared_.

Maybe that's why she had agreed to make another visit. She wanted to help Dick face whatever was scaring him. She wanted to be the friend she had failed to be while at college.

Or maybe she just felt guilty.

---

"I went to see Dick at the hospital today," Barbara explained to her father that night over dinner. "He seems to be pretty stable. Emaciated, but stable."

"That's good news, I suppose," the Commissioner said. "Bruce has been so worried about him."

"Yeah. Poor Dick," Barbara went on. "You know, I never wrote him one letter while I was at college? Not one. Oh, I'd call him every once in a while, but I was always too _busy_ to sit down and write him a decent letter. In a way, I can't help but feel like _I _gave him the anorexia and bulimia and who knows what else…"

"It wasn't your fault, Babs."

"I know," she sighed, playing with the last few pieces of spaghetti on her plate. "I just keep remembering how small and helpless he looked today…"

Reaching over to place a hand over his daughter's, Jim said gently, "That's all in the past now, Barbara. Let's try to forget it, shall we?"

"But that's exactly what we _can't_ do!" Babs protested. "We have to _remember_ this, make sure it doesn't happen again—to Dick or to anybody else! We can't forget…"

The two fell silent for a moment. Then, "It's funny how something like this puts everything in perspective, isn't it, Dad? This time last month my biggest problem was whether or not I'd pass my physics exam. Then I find out about this… and everything else just seems so unimportant all of a sudden."

"I know what you mean," her father solemnly agreed. He gazed at his red-headed daughter, feeling very grateful that it wasn't _his_ child in the hospital. Barbara could be almost as much of a perfectionist as Dick was, and it would have been easy for her to develop the disorder in the secrecy of her dorm room.

Jim shuddered. He didn't really want to follow _that_ train of thought. He suddenly found that he had a new admiration for Bruce Wayne and the strength he must have to go through this. Jim wasn't sure _he _could.

"You know, it's kind of… strange that Dick should have this disorder _now_, of all times," James commented.

"How so?" his daughter queried.

"You know Batman's sidekick Robin, don't you?"

Barbara looked up from her plate, trying to hide the worry she felt.

"I've heard of him," she answered. "I don't think I've ever had the pleasure of actually meeting him."

"Oh? Well, remind me to introduce you two sometime. Anyway, he's been losing a good bit of weight himself lately," Jim explained. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that Robin was just as anorexic as Dick is."

"Really?" Barbara replied, inwardly sighing in relief. Then, she cautiously added, "Why don't you say something to Batman, then?"

"Oh, I'm sure he already knows. I haven't seen Robin for quite a while, and Batman hasn't explained why. But that isn't a bad idea, Babs—I'll mention it the next time I see him. Just in case."

Barbara smiled.

---

"No… _no…_"

Bruce awoke with a jolt and blinked a couple of times, wondering what it was that had disturbed his light sleep.

"Please, no… please… _stop…_"

That was it.

He rose from the cot that he'd been sleeping on. He didn't really like sleeping on cots, but then again, he didn't like the hospital either. Besides, Dick would often have nightmares like this one, and he wanted Bruce there to help him through, whether he knew it or not.

"Stop it, _stop_… no, I don't want… _no_…"

Bruce took him by the shoulders and gave him a little shake. The boy's eyes flew open as he tried to sit up. Bruce held him tighter as he realized that Dick was trying to get out of bed.

"I have to get rid of it!" Dick gasped.

"_No,_ Dick."

"But Bruce, I—"

"Dick, you know I can't let you do that," Bruce stated firmly.

Dick was getting desperate now—Bruce could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way he shook so violently. He knew this would be one of the toughest parts of recovery, having to listen to Dick pleading with him, begging to let him throw up again.

"Bruce, _please!_ I have to! Just this once, I swear this'll be the last time—!"

"Dick, _listen_ to me!"

"Why are you _doing_ this to me?!" the boy sobbed.

"I'm not doing anything to you—you're doing this to yourself! Why can't you_ see_ that? Look, Dick, you can cry and beg all you want, but it's not going to work, not with me! Not with me…"

Oh, great, now he'd lost his temper with the kid. _That_ would certainly help.

But Dick already seemed to know that he'd lost the battle.

"Why?" whispered Dick, bowing his head and watching as the tears fell onto the blanket. "Why can't you understand? Why doesn't anyone _understand?_"

As Dick spoke, his eyes drifted upward to focus on the bathroom door. It seemed so close and impossibly far at the same time.

Seeing Dick's eyes traveling across the room, Bruce quickly changed positions so that he was next to Dick with his left arm wrapped tightly around the boy's shoulders. He clasped Dick's forearm with his right hand and held on tight.

He wasn't going to lose Dick.

Not this way.

---

"Star, what in heck _happened_ to you?! You almost got me _killed!_" Speedy ranted, waving his unbroken arm around in the air.

"It isn't just about _you_, Roy!" Wonder Girl shot back, looking unusually annoyed. "Why don't you stop thinking of yourself every once in a while and try considering someone_ else's_ feelings for a change?"

The archer blinked in surprise. It wasn't often Wonder Girl spoke to him that way, but then he noticed that his short outburst had caused Starfire to start crying.

"I offer my humblest apologies, Friend Speedy," Starfire said remorsefully, her head bowed low. "I did not wish for you to be injured."

"All we want to know is why you didn't use your powers to save Speedy," Aqualad told her softly. "You were the only one in a position to help him, and I gave you orders to do so. Why didn't you listen? That isn't like you."

"I _did_ try to follow your orders, Aqualad, but I am afraid my powers failed me. My Tamaranean powers do not work when I feel the sadness."

"Sadness? But what did you—" Aqualad queried. Then, all of a sudden, he understood.

"It's about Robin, isn't it?"

Starfire nodded and wiped her eyes, still crying. Wonder Girl put a hand on her shoulder and explained gently, "Starfire, we're all worried about Robin. But as much as we care about him, we cannot do what he did. We cannot let our fears run our lives. The best thing that we can do now is to keep the Titans going for Robin until his return."

"I'm sorry, friends… but I cannot," she whispered, shaking her head. "Perhaps it would be better if I left the group…"

"WHAT?!"

"C'mon, Star, we don't want you to go," Speedy insisted. "I mean, just because you goofed hardly means that—"

"Starfire, please," Aqualad pleaded, "don't leave the Titans. With Robin gone, we can't afford to lose another member. We _need_ you."

"But if my powers do not work, then what good am I? No… I can't do it…"

With a sob, she ran from the room.

"Starfire!"

Wonder Girl moved to follow her fellow Titan. Aqualad held out an arm to stop her. He didn't say anything, but he knew it would be useless to try to bring Starfire back right now.

_Well, you were right, Garth, _Aqualad thought with a sigh. _Without Robin, the Titans __**are**__ falling apart. And now it's your job to try to keep them together._

Kid Flash had been relatively quiet up until then, but not long after Starfire's abrupt exit, he turned to Speedy and gave him a push.

"Nice going, Arrow Breath! As if it wasn't enough for you to fire Robin, now you have to get rid of Starfire, too?! What is your _problem_ already?" he yelled.

"Are you still blaming me for that? It isn't my fault Robin went and got an eating disorder!" Speedy shot back. "And don't _push_ me because I might decide to push _back!_"

Speedy moved to do just that, but Aqualad quickly stepped in between the pair.

"The Titans have enough problems without you fighting each other," he rebuked the two red-heads. "We need to stick together now, whether _you_ like it or not!"

Wonder Girl couldn't help but smile a little. This was the first time that Aqualad had asserted himself. He had finally made it clear to the others that_ he _was the leader and nothing was going to change that until Robin said otherwise.

Maybe the Titans could make it through this after all.

Now to convince Starfire to come back…

---

Starfire stood quietly in her room, staring at a photograph in her hands. It was a picture of her and Robin—one of the rare times Robin had allowed someone to take his picture while he was in costume. It had been taken about six months ago. That was when Robin had started losing weight, but before he had become so unhappy.

With a sniffle, Starfire gently placed the photo in her suitcase and continued with her packing.

Wonder Girl watched from the doorway as silent tears gently made their way down Starfire's face. She knew that Starfire was the most sensitive of the Titans, as Tamaraneans were a very emotional race. The fact that she was such a close friend of Robin's only made the pain even worse for her.

"Starfire… _Kory_," the Amazon amended her greeting. "Please reconsider. Leaving will not help."

"I cannot stay here," was the sad response.

"But where will you go?"

"I would tell you if I knew. You will tell Robin good-bye for me, yes?"

"_No! _Kory, stop this!"

Starfire's eyes widened in surprise as Wonder Girl grabbed her wrist and yelled, "Leaving is the worst thing you can do now—the worst for the Titans, the worst for yourself, and the worst for Robin! How do you think he will feel when he learns you have abandoned him? Because that is what you're doing_—_you're abandoning him! And I cannot let you do that! He could _die _from this! You know that, don't you? But no matter what happens, we have to be there for him… just like he'd be there for us..."

Both girls were crying by the end of Wonder Girl's speech. The only thing they could think to do was hug each other fiercely in hopes of finding solace in their mutual grief.

After a long moment, Wonder Girl pulled away from the embrace.

"You'll stay?" she asked hopefully.

Starfire nodded.

"I will stay… but not as a Titan. I will stay as a friend."

"A friend is all Robin needs right now, Kory. Thank you."

* * *

**Kinda long chapter. I hope you can forgive me. XD **

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**ShockMePeter-**Why, thank you :) Okay, I'll call! (pause) Uh, what's their phone number? (pulls out yellow pages) As for the public, well, they couldn't ALL be nice, could they?

**Rabbit of Iron-**It makes MY day whenever I get lovely reviews like that! Thanks! And the comment about Dick smiling just means that recovery ain't gonna be no walk in the park. Nothing _really_ bad happens (well, that depends on your definition of _really_ bad, actually...).

**PlatinumRoseLady-**Deep down, Dick probably knows its true. He just has a hard time admitting it to himself. And of course I had to go there! It was too obvious! Besides, with Robin not doing his (in)famous puns anymore, somebody had to fill in.

**steelelf-**Ha, ha! Dangit, I should have written that scene. It sounds really funny the way you put it. XD But yeah, poor Dick has a really long way to go still. Luckily, Wally's there!!

**Lil' Kanny-**The first step of anything generally tends to be the hardest, but yes, Dick's definitely headed for some rough times... sorry, your patience lessons were longer this week! I caught a cold the day we came back and didn't feel like updating till now. Sorry!

**kokomocalifornia-**Would this qualify as a Bruce and Dick moment? I'm not sure... anyway, there's a better one coming up in a few chapters. Please stay tuned!!

**AdrenalineRush-**Yeah, I kinda feel sorry for the poor guy, but at the same time... my account is saved!! And thank you, we had loads of fun at Disneyworld!

**caltha-**_Slightly _evil. I was referring to that rotten note Dick was reading. Relax, if you're into evil, we get tons of it in a couple of chapters (hint, hint).

**TheBatThing-**Hehe. I do have a tendency to write long stories at times. Just ask my second-grade teacher. And I like Garth, too, but I think my favorite (after Robin) would have to be... Speedy? O.o Yeah. LOL.

**SarahC4321-**(tosses warm fuzzies around) Yay! I like warm fuzzies... but whenever I think of that term, I picture tribbles in a toaster oven. Heh.

**gatogirl1-**Relapse. Yes. Remember that word (see 'hint, hint' in caltha's reviewer reply). I don't read the manga, though. Too expensive. I do like Furuba fanfiction, however. Lihau's stuff is good (well, duh, she's my sister) and a fic called "Akito's Diary". Now THAT is funny!

**CrazyInsomaniac-**(is pretending she didn't read that) Bruce is trying, really. But you're right, his problem is mostly impatience. That might actually put pressure on Dick to recover, which would be BAD...

**Gohanzgirl-**Ouch! That sounds really painful, you have my sympathies. And I think a little more crying than glaring would be good, at least for now...

**steelphoenix-**Aw, Clark wouldn't do anything to hurt Dickie. I'm sure he was very nice (unlike the tabloids). 8)


	25. Alone in the Dark

**Ya'll are gonna hate me for this chapter... but don't worry! Nobody dies!! At least not yet... muahaha... XD**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Twenty-Four: Alone in the Dark

For nearly two months, Dick was stuck in the hospital, and it was all too rare that you'd be lucky enough to walk in on him when he was in a good mood. Some of Dick's friends—most notably Oliver Queen—found the boy's attitude too much to take and quit coming around. Ollie's ward, Roy, hadn't even bothered to visit at all after hearing some of the others' 'horror stories'. Nobody could blame them, really. That wasn't to say they _approved_ of Ollie and Roy's lack of contact with Dick, but they could certainly understand their reluctance to visit the moody teenager.

Dick blamed himself for their continued absence. He knew he was being difficult, but he couldn't help it. And he hated himself for it.

He never dared to voice these feelings.

Luckily, there were so many others—like Clark and Barbara and, of course, Bruce—who proved that they were just as stubborn as Dick was. They kept visiting no matter what mood Dick was in.

The good news was that Dick seemed to be making a real effort to recover. He had expressed horror upon realizing how thin he'd allowed himself to become, and he was also gaining weight at a steady pace. He hated every pound of it, but apparently, the fact that he was gaining weight at all was enough to satisfy the hospital staff.

As soon as Dick hit ninety-one pounds, he was released.

_But I don't __**feel**__ any different, _Dick thought, confused, as Bruce helped him into the car that wet and rainy evening.

Quit griping… you're out of the hospital, aren't you? But just look at you… fatter, uglier, and more pathetic than ever… you know what you have to do, and you'd better do it fast…

_But I don't want to!_

Okay, fine then… don't do anything… keep on being the hideous thing you are now… everybody hates you and you know the only way to change that is to do what I tell you… but okay, you don't want to be thin, fine then, don't…

Dick closed his eyes and dug his nails into his palms as hard as he could. A lot of good that hospital stay had done—he'd just wasted two months of his life, here it was August already, and those stupid Voices were still there. Okay, so they weren't quite as strong as they had been before starting the treatment, but they were still there and still very convincing.

Bruce glanced over at the boy sitting next to him, watching the conflicting emotions play across his face. He knew what Dick was thinking. He was thinking about what he should do when he got home, whether he should eat his dinner like a good little boy or refuse to touch any of it. He was thinking about whether he should sit down and read a book or run upstairs to the bathroom to throw up what he'd eaten that day.

_I should have put locks on the bathroom doors, _Bruce thought, returning his eyes to the road. In fact, that's what he had wanted to do in the first place, but Alfred had talked him out of it. Bruce hadn't really been listening—after all, when Alfred wanted something done his way, it generally got done his way, so what was the point in suffering through the lecture?—but the old man had said something about Master Dick getting enough locks at the hospital. How he'd appreciate not seeing them at home and how he'd do better if they showed him a little kindness instead of more restrictions.

Okay, maybe that was true. But locks wouldn't hurt, either. And not the kind that could be picked open with a pin. No, he had been planning on combination locks with a fingerprint analyzer…

"Home! Finally," Dick proclaimed. He was trying a little too hard to sound cheerful. Bruce noticed but didn't say anything about it. "I swear, there were times when I thought I'd _never _see this place again."

"Well… this place wasn't the same without you," Bruce admitted.

"Yeah. It was probably a lot quieter."

"Quieter isn't necessarily better."

Dick bit his lip and didn't respond. Did he really believe all this sentimental stuff his mentor was dishing out? No, not really.

With an obvious effort, Dick opened the car door and stepped out into the rain. Alfred would probably have a cow when he found out that Dick wasn't using an umbrella, but Dick didn't really care at the moment. He barely even noticed the rain; he was too busy formulating a plan…

Alfred was waiting for them in the doorway. He chose not to scold Dick for failing to use the umbrella that had been left for him in the back seat of the car.

"Welcome home, young master," the butler greeted with a warm smile.

Dick's mouth twitched a little, like he was trying to smile back, and managed, "Hey, Alfred."

Bruce followed directly behind his ward. He felt like sighing at the subdued manner in which the boy had greeted Alfred. Normally, after returning home after an extended period of time, Dick would be bouncing all over the place in his excitement.

_Forget about __**normal,**_ Bruce chastised himself. _Eating disorders are not __**normal**__. Normal is what we're aiming for right now._

Meanwhile, Alfred had already looked Dick over to make sure he seemed okay. Then he added, "Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes. We're having steak and potatoes. Will that be alright, sir?"

"Um, sure. Steak sounds fine, Alfred," Dick said, sounding distracted. "In the meantime, I think I'll go up to my room and make sure it's still in the same place. I'll also be checking to make sure you guys didn't auction off my stuff while I was out."

"You should find everything in perfect order, Master Dick."

"It was just a joke… gee…" the teen mumbled, missing the jocular tone in Alfred's voice.

Without waiting for a reply, Dick jammed his hands into his pockets and began to ascend the stairs. He wasn't the only one to notice the lack of energy in his step as he continued the climb.

_Man… since when did climbing stairs get this hard? I must be in worse shape than I thought… that's it. First thing tomorrow morning, I'm hitting the gym._

Even as he thought this, Dick knew Bruce would never let him do it.

Dinner went smoothly enough. Dick started out by just pushing his food around his plate, but reluctantly got around to finishing the meal. He refused the offer of dessert. Instead, he asked for permission to head back up to his room, claiming exhaustion.

"Alright then, Master Dick. You may be excused. Good night."

As soon as Dick's footsteps had faded, Bruce stood up from the table and started to follow him.

"Master Bruce…" warned Alfred.

"He's been out of the hospital for all of ninety minutes, Alfred. I want to make sure he doesn't—"

Bruce didn't even bother to finish his sentence when he caught a glimpse of the look on his butler's face.

"He has to know he is trusted," Alfred repeated for what must have been the twentieth time since yesterday.

"I _do_ trust him," Bruce insisted quietly as he sat back down. "It's the eating disorders I don't trust."

---

With tight, robotic movements, Dick slowly reached into the pencil holder in his room. Soon, his fingers hit the object he was looking for—

Diet pills. He'd taken them out of their bottle and hidden them among his writing utensils just days before the virus had infected him. They were a bit dusty now, so Dick took them into the bathroom and quickly rinsed them off.

Dick played with the pills in his hand for a moment. He glanced over at the sink, and then back at the pills.

On impulse, he filled a plastic cup with water and raised the pills to his lips…

…But then he stopped.

He _wanted_ to do it. He wanted to do it so badly—to swallow the stuff and purge his body of the disgustingly fattening dinner he'd been forced to eat. It would be so easy… come on, just a little bit will be enough… go on, just do it… you've been doing it for months, one more time won't hurt…

_Sure, 'one more time'. And how many times after that? Does it ever end?_

Sure it does, just as soon as you lose a few more pounds… don't let them fool you with all this talk of recovery—they just want you to keep being the ugly thing you are now… c'mon, just one dose… you can do it, it's easy…

But he didn't.

Slowly, carefully, Dick put the cup down and half-ran, half-staggered down the stairs, hoping to get to somebody before he changed his mind.

He found Bruce in the study, going over some papers.

As soon as he heard footsteps, the man turned to see Dick standing in the doorway, suddenly looking very shy and unsure of himself.

This wasn't Dick, he lamented. This was somebody else, somebody he wished would just go away and leave them alone. Dick had suffered enough in his life. He didn't need this.

"Did you want something, chum?"

"I…" Dick started. In the end, though, he couldn't think of what to say and just nodded instead.

Bruce watched patiently as the boy slowly walked up to him and held out his hand. In it was what seemed to be diet pills.

"Take them. I don't want them anymore… well, alright, yes I _do_ want them… just get rid of them for me, will you?"

Bruce reached up and removed the pills from Dick's surprisingly tight grasp, letting his fingers brush up against Dick's for a little longer than necessary.

"Smart choice."

"Yeah," Dick replied with a humorless laugh. "Now tell _them_ that."

He lightly touched the boy's arm, relieved to feel that it wasn't just skin and bones beneath the soft fabric of his shirt anymore.

"You'll make it, kid. You'll make it."

"Sure."

But Dick was clearly skeptical.

Bruce watched him as he turned and left the room. There was so much he wanted to tell the boy… but expressing emotions had never been one of Bruce's strong points. Every time he tried to tell Dick how he felt, something would go wrong, or his words would be misinterpreted and they'd end up fighting instead.

There had to be a way to tell Dick… there _had _to be.

---

Dick sat cross-legged on the bed with his hands folded so tightly they shook. He stared at the blankets and concentrated on the interlocking threads, following them as they criss-crossed their way to the end of the fabric, and then contrasting the dark blue of the blanket with the pale white skin of his bare feet.

But, in spite of his best efforts, Dick could feel his eyes becoming watery. What now? He knew there would still be regular sessions with his nutritionist and his therapist, and check-ups at the hospital every once in a while, but… until then? What was he supposed to do? He'd already spent two months at that hospital. He had tried to recover—honest!—but everything was still so hard.

Well, okay, he _had_ been able to give up the diet pills.

But he still feared the calories he was being forced to eat, and he still hated the person that looked back at him in the mirror.

What now?

He just felt so…

Alone.

Helpless.

_Lost_.

Totally and completely _lost_.

Swallowing hard, Dick stood and made his way over to the balcony. He needed to be out there in the cool evening air for a minute, even if it was still pouring rain outside.

He was almost at the railing when his foot slipped on the wet marble. Dick went down instantly and landed on his stomach. It knocked the wind out of him and nearly resulted in his nose getting broken on the hard ground.

Yelling a curse for the first time in his life, Dick got to his knees, shook his fist at the sky and screamed in a fit of unexplained anger, "What did I ever do to you, huh?! Why does everything always happen to _me?! __Ohhhhhh,_ what's the _use?_ Nobody cares… nobody _cares_…"

Dick squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fist against his forehead. He gave up on trying to stop the tears and just let himself cry. He needed to, but he didn't want to—he was always acting like such a baby these days; the last thing he needed to do was cry to prove it to himself. There was nothing wrong with crying… except for him.

He wasn't _supposed_ to be crying.

But he couldn't help it. He just felt so empty inside, and the only way he knew of to fill that emptiness was no longer an option unless he wanted to be in therapy for the rest of his life.

Finally, Dick opened his eyes. He took a deep shuddering breath, feeling the rain as it slipped down his cheeks and mingled with the tears.

Then he froze.

Something was there, sitting behind a post at the very edge of the balcony. Something he'd hidden out there months ago and almost forgotten about.

Ipecac.

His frenzied thoughts blurred together with the Voices, who were issuing orders almost faster than he could follow.

Not here, Bruce will find you then, the Tower, that's it, go to the Tower and use it, nobody will find you there…

Dick tried to resist the urge to obey.

And lost.

---

"Garth, you are not listening… Garth?"

The teen shook his head a little and promptly apologized to his senior partner for daydreaming. He knew he should be paying attention. After all, these were some very dangerous villains Arthur was teaching him about. But, no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept drifting back to other things.

"You seem preoccupied tonight," the King of the Seas observed. "Is something bothering you, Minnow?"

"Leading the Titans is more difficult than I anticipated," he admitted. "It has been two months since I took over, yet I cannot seem to win Speedy's respect. I have tried everything I can think of, Arthur, but it is not working."

"You know how Speedy can be. He needs time to work this out with himself—we _all_ need a little time."

Aqualad nodded to show he understood, but secretly, he was still frustrated.

"Would you mind if we continue this tomorrow?" the boy requested. "I don't think I can concentrate anymore this evening. Beside that, I really should clean up the Tower before we need it again. Speedy and Kid Flash had a fight and made a bit of a mess this afternoon."

"What were they fighting about?" Aquaman questioned, not sounding very surprised. Those two were not famous for being the best of friends.

"Please forgive me, but I am not at liberty to say. It concerns Titans business, and when we first formed the group, we agreed that we would not discuss our business with those outside the group if others in the group did not want us to."

_Plus they both threatened to kill me if I repeated what Speedy said about Robin still being ill because he has no will power…_

"Very well," Aquaman consented. "But try not to stay too late."

The boy agreed to these terms and left for the surface—or, more specifically, for the river entrance to the Titans' Tower. From there, it wasn't a very long walk to the rec room.

Aqualad strolled through the halls, glancing about in wonder. He couldn't get used to the place in the dark, even after two months of being the leader and having to turn on the lights for everyone else. In fact, the only other person who had ever regularly seen the place in the dark was probably Robin.

It was odd. Aqualad had never really thought about things like the lights in the Tower before. They were always just… _there. _Bright and warm and welcoming, reassuring him that he wasn't alone. That he had friends and allies to help him whenever he needed help, or just to talk to when he felt sad about something.

Now it was dark, and he was by himself.

_Well if the darkness disturbs you so much, turn on the lights_.

Why should he? It wouldn't be the same. He would still be by himself. It was kind of uncomfortable, he realized, being by himself in that big place with no friendly faces to greet him.

Usually, Robin would be the one alone, in the dark. Left to start and end the day all alone.

All alone…

Maybe that was part of his problem, Aqualad reflected. Maybe he hated being alone. Maybe he wanted someone to be with him when he cleaned up the Tower after a hard day, someone to talk to after arresting another criminal. He'd never really thought about it before, but now that he was actually experiencing Robin's duties first hand, it sure seemed like something that might cause eating disorders. Being alone.

With a little sigh, Aqualad flicked on the light switch in the hallway, and then in the rec room. He gave an even bigger sigh upon seeing the mess he'd have to clean up.

All alone.

_Robin, when this is over, I'll never let you be alone again._

And so Aqualad got to work.

He wasn't more than halfway through when he began hearing odd noises from another section of the Tower. He couldn't figure out where it was coming from at first, so he just followed his ears until they brought him to the bathroom. He _had_ figured out what the noises were, but they had already been replaced by a different kind of sound by the time he got there.

First it had been vomiting. But now it was crying.

He knew what was happening here.

He knew that Dick had gotten out of the hospital that day.

He knew what was happening here. It could be summed up in a word he had heard from Kid Flash numerous times when his fellow Titan had done that report. A word he had heard when studying various diseases, including eating disorders. A word he had been hoping to avoid as far as Dick was concerned.

Relapse.

Before, it had just been a word. Now it was more than that.

Aqualad didn't bother to knock before walking in. The light from the corridor flooded into the room to reveal a soaked Dick Grayson sitting on the white tiled floor. His arms were wrapped loosely around his knees. He was rocking himself back and forth gently as he cried next to the sink, where the fragments of a bottle of ipecac now lay smashed in the basin.

Even after the Atlantean sat next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, Dick didn't seem to notice that he was no longer alone in the dark. He just kept rocking in an odd attempt to console himself. Aqualad moved along with the other boy, murmuring words of comfort in his native language.

Eventually, Dick stopped rocking and managed to pull himself together. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, turned to Aqualad, and gave the new leader of the Titans a watery smirk.

"Looks like my first day out of the hospital didn't go so well, huh?"

"Are you alright now? Do you want me to take you home?"

"No, I'm fine. Well, sort of. I… I threw up again…"

"I know, I know," Aqualad said quietly, reassuringly. "I know you did."

"Bruce is gonna kill me…"

"No he won't. You have to stop thinking like that, Dick. Nobody is perfect, and nobody expects you to be."

"Bruce does."

The look Dick gave him right then was almost enough to make Aqualad believe that his friend really _was_ expected to be perfect.

And in a sense, maybe he was. Dick expected _himself_ to be perfect, and that was good enough for him.

"Come with me, Dick. I'll take you home."

Aqualad stood up and offered his hand to Dick, who seemed to examine the red glove before accepting it. Then they exited the bathroom together, leaving the broken bottle of ipecac behind.

* * *

**I dunno, every time I see Aquaman calling Garth 'Minnow', the first thing that springs to _my_ mind is _Gilligan's Island._ Heh. XD I know, I'm pathetic.**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**caltha-**Thank you. We had a great time, as expected! And there's your weekly dose of evil.

**Gohanzgirl-**Well, he WAS really doing it... but hey, nobody's perfect, right? We don't actually get to see Robin in therapy (though that could make a great one shot), mostly because this fic is WAY too long as is :-P I mention it later on, though...

**CrazyInsomaniac-**Yeah, well, with Speedy acting like a jerk again, I'd be gettin' moody too! LOL.

**ShockMePeter-**Sorry, this chapter isn't quite as long. And yeah, DC Comics is probably too 'busy' to read an email from a poor nobody like me. XP They're so evil...

**steelelf-**Well, if you want to write that oneshot, go right ahead. I'd read it :) And please, don't give Robin any ideas!! He's bad enough as is! I wouldn't recommend doing that yourself, either... O.O

**AdrenalineRush-**(mutters) He can throw up NOW... (cough) Anyway, thanks! I love Disneyworld... (heart eyes) And Bruce needed therapy, like, twenty years ago!!

**PlatinumRoseLady-**Pfft, lol. Now I wish I watched Monty Python. (hands you a flounder) Go ahead and smack him. I think he deserves it about now.

**Lil' Kanny-**Thank you! Unfortunately, I think I might be coming down with another cold. I've been coughing all day. XP

**SarahC4321-**Ah. A tribble is a little critter from _Star Trek_. It resembles a giant pompom that squeaks. They're also born pregnant, don't get me started on that...

**kokomocalifornia-**You're welcome :) There's a better one coming up.

**The BatThing-**My second grade teacher had a stuffed dinosaur named Scribbles. Each student got to take him home for a weekend and write about what they did with him. My report was about, um (cough) twenty pages. Relax, I used to get hopelessly confused, too. Then other authors and wikipedia came to my rescue. If you have an questions, feel free to ask me :)


	26. Tough Love

**We get a glimpse into Bruce's mind this chapter! Yippee!! XD Anyway, the info about fingerprint-lifiting in this chappie can mostly be atributed to one of my Nancy Drew computer games and the movie _National Treasure_. **

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Twenty-Five: Tough Love

"He's _gone!_"

Alfred glanced up as his eldest charge stormed into the kitchen. Judging by the look on Bruce's face, there was no need to ask who he was talking about.

"Have you checked the Batcave, sir? Perhaps he—"

"Yes, I checked the Batcave, his room, the grounds, the entire house! He's _not here!_"

"Well I don't seem to recall your specifically ordering Master Dick to stay in the Manor. Perhaps he decided to visit some of his friends at the Tower or the Watchtower."

"I called both those places already. They haven't seen him at the Watchtower and nobody's answering at the Tower," Bruce insisted impatiently. Dick was missing, for heaven's sake—this was an emergency! He didn't have time to sit around explaining things!

"If he doesn't show up in ten minutes, then Batman is going out after that little…"

Bruce glanced at the clock.

"Make that five minutes."

Alfred watched as Bruce went back to his study and slammed the door shut loudly. In spite of the severity of the situation, he couldn't help but chuckle a bit. And to think Bruce was always insisting he was Dick's guardian, not his father.

But he sure _acted_ like a father sometimes.

Meanwhile, Alfred's thoughts were among the least of Bruce's concerns. If that kid didn't get his tail back here in about thirty seconds, he was really going to get it!

Before he could continue planning Dick's fate, the Bat's sharp ears picked up the sounds of the elevator from the Cave to the study being activated.

_About time._

Common sense told Bruce to go easy on the boy, but habit had him standing formidably, arms crossed, glaring at the elevator doors as they opened. He didn't betray his surprise upon discovering that Dick was soaked… and that he was not alone.

Even though the man hadn't said a word, the look on his face was enough to make Aqualad cringe visibly as Dick paled.

"He knows!" Dick whispered in horror.

"Where you've been? No, not yet, but I intend to find out." Turning to Aqualad, Bruce said shortly, "Where was he?"

"The Tower."

"What was he _doing_ there?"

"Drinkin' ipecac," Dick confessed. He tried to make a joke out of the condemning words, but it didn't come off very well. His voice cracked right in the middle, betraying his distress.

The one thing it did succeed in doing was softening Bruce's attitude. The change was barely noticeable to Aqualad, but Dick picked up on it and felt such a rush of relief that his knees almost gave out.

Bruce didn't say anything at first. He just jerked his head towards the study door, as if telling Dick to get out of the elevator. Although Dick's first impulse was to grab onto Aqualad and stay right where he was, he obeyed.

"You'll come visit my grave every once in a while, won't you, Gillhead?" Dick muttered sarcastically. "Because this is probably the last time you'll ever see_ me_ alive."

Aqualad never answered.

As soon as they were alone, Dick started backing up towards the study doors, babbling nervously as he went.

"Bruce, before you yell at me, and I know you're gonna yell at me eventually, I swear, I _didn't_ want to do it! I know that sounds crazy 'cause you're always the one talking about self-control and you're probably thinking that I would have stopped myself if I really didn't want to do it, but I _tried_ and…"

"Dick."

"But…"

"Dick."

"I…"

By this point, Dick had gone completely off-course, missing the door and cornering himself against a wall instead. Bruce could see the terror on the boy's face and hear it in his ragged breathing.

"Dick, calm down, okay? You act like I'm about to hit you."

"…You're not?"

Much to Dick's surprise, Bruce actually looked hurt.

"You really think I'd hit you for this?"

"Well… _yeah! _I mean if I were you, _I'd_ hit me for this."

"Well, as _you_ are so fond of pointing out, _you're not me_."

Dick moved his jaw, trying to form words, but nothing came out. He ducked his head in embarrassment when he realized that Bruce had essentially caught him in his own trap.

While he was still staring at the floor, Dick felt Bruce put an arm around his shoulders. It was done very gently, as if Bruce was afraid that he would jerk away from the half-embrace. But Dick didn't move, except for tensing up slightly in sudden fear.

"It's okay. Nothing's going to happen to you," Bruce repeated.

Dick nodded and took a deep breath, letting his shoulders slump a little.

"You alright now?"

Dick nodded again.

"Okay then. Go get dried off and come back down here. I don't claim to be a psychiatrist but maybe we can figure out why this happened."

While Dick was out of the room, Bruce lit a fire in the huge marble fireplace. Although it was August, and it wasn't really cold enough to warrant a fire, Bruce recalled that Dick had been shivering during their conversation. It was apparent that he had been out in the rain in bare feet, and since he was still quite thin, the boy was probably feeling rather chilled by this point.

Sure enough, by the time Dick came back, his arms were crossed and he was hunched over slightly, as if trying to keep himself warm. He was only wearing a pair of light summer pajamas—undoubtedly trying to look normal at the expense of his own comfort. He appeared to be slightly confused by the presence of the fire, but welcomed it nonetheless.

Bruce sat down in an armchair near the fireplace while Dick sat on the floor in front of him. The duo stared at each other for several seconds.

"So what do you want me to say?" Dick finally piped up.

"Where you got the ipecac would be a good place to start."

"Um… on the balcony in my room…"

Ah, so _that's_ how he'd gotten wet.

"Why did you use it instead of telling me about it the way you did with the diet pills?" Bruce continued.

All he got was a shrug. Bruce sighed a little in exasperation. Dick shrank back slightly at the noise.

"Well do you remember what you were thinking just before using the ipecac?"

The boy chewed his lip, trying to remember. Everything had gone by so fast…

"…Yeah…" Dick said slowly. "I was on the balcony in the rain… I was thinking that… I was thinking that nobody cared about me."

Dick balled up his fists, waiting for Bruce to tell him that that was ridiculous, that he _knew_ there were people out there worrying themselves sick over his precarious mental and physical condition.

But when Bruce spoke, the only thing he said was the rather cryptic, "There. Now we know."

"Know what?"

"Why you decided to use the ipecac," the man explained. "You kept thinking that nobody cared about you and you tried to deal with that the way you have been for the past year."

"Oh. Is that it, then?"

"No. We'll have to talk to your therapist at your next session tomorrow, see if she can teach you a better way of dealing with these feelings of being unwanted."

"Oh."

"In the meantime, try to remember—those voices in your head? They're lying to you, okay?"

Dick nodded but raised an eyebrow in pleasant surprise. This was the first time he'd heard someone besides his therapist who referred to the Voices as real things and not just figments of his imagination. Well, okay, they _were_ in his mind, but to Dick, they were real. It was nice to hear someone else acknowledge that fact.

Bruce continued, "Another thing, Dick, and I need you to be completely honest with me on this one… have you hidden anything else around the house or elsewhere? Any more diet pills, ipecac…?"

"Not that I can remember," Dick replied truthfully.

But, in spite of the open response he had given, Dick knew he saw a glint of suspicion in his guardian's eyes.

_Well what did I __**expect**__, for crying out loud? After what I've been doing, I'd be suspicious of me, too… but still…_

"Alright, I believe you," Bruce said at last. There was a short pause before he added, "Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

_Aw, how cute. He's making an effort to be nice to me._

"No, I think that's it."

"Then maybe you'd better get on up to bed, huh?"

"Guess so."

"If you think of anything else—"

"—I'll let you know," Dick finished up. "'Night, Bruce."

"Good night."

Dick closed the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, Bruce stood up and made his way over to the desk in the corner. He often used it to go over business from Wayne Enterprises, and Dick sometimes borrowed the spot to do his homework. Right now, though, it was being used to hide something. Something important.

Opening the top left-hand drawer, Bruce carefully counted the items in the drawer that had been hidden with such care. Yes, there they were. All still there and in good condition.

Locks.

---

"What did you do to my bathroom?!"

Bruce didn't even look up from the morning paper as Dick stormed into the kitchen, still in his pajamas and mad as a hornet.

"You're up," Bruce calmly observed.

"Okay, what's with the _lock _on my bathroom door? I wake up this morning and it's like I'm back at the hospital!" Dick ranted.

"You'd better get dressed. Clark said something about dropping by to check on you this morning."

"How am I supposed to get dressed when my _bathroom_ is _locked?_ And don't even try to tell me that wasn't _your_ doing because you're the only one who would think of something as rotten as putting combination locks on every bathroom in the house!"

"Breakfast will be ready in about fifteen minutes."

"_Bruce! _You're not even listening—although somehow, that doesn't surprise me!"

Bruce finally looked up from his paper. He'd never seen Dick this angry before (at least not at _him_), but that hardly meant he was going to remove the locks. Last night had shown they were a necessity.

Which reminded him. He'd have to make sure the Titans put a lock on their bathroom door as well and kept the combination a secret from Dick.

"I know you're upset with me, but there's really no point in discussing this because the locks are staying. If you want to use the bathroom, you'll have to ask me."

"And if you're not home? _Then_ what?"

He had a point, actually. If he gave any of the combinations to Alfred, then Alfred would immediately tell Dick and the boy would have unlimited access to the bathroom until Bruce changed the combination. He couldn't risk that.

"Don't worry. I'll be sticking close to home for quite a while yet."

"That doesn't make this right! In fact this is just plain _wrong!_ You ask anybody else and they'll agree with _me_, I guarantee it!"

Bruce folded his paper and stood.

"You wanted to use the bathroom, didn't you? Come on then."

Dick growled as his guardian walked past him… but he _did_ need to use the bathroom. He could always figure out how to get past the locks later.

---

Dick showered and changed quickly. By the time he came downstairs, hair still wet from the shower, Clark was waiting for him in the living room. The reporter instantly noticed the anger in Dick's expression and asked, "Is something wrong?"

"_Bruce _put _locks_ on all the bathrooms in the house," Dick grumbled, kicking at a leg of the coffee table.

"Locks?" Clark repeated. "You mean like at the hospital?"

"_Worse_. These ones are combination locks with fingerprint analysis built in."

Turning to Clark, Dick pleaded, "You know he's wrong, don't you?"

"Hold on a minute." Clark held up a hand to ensure that Dick stopped talking. "Why would Bruce want to put locks on all the bathrooms _just now?_ You haven't…?"

"That's entirely beside the point!" Dick snapped. Clark didn't even blink at Dick's sudden burst of temper, accustomed to his mood swings. But Dick seemed to realize that his tone had been entirely too harsh for the occasion.

"Sorry, Clark. I kinda had a rough night… I'm sorry…"

Dick nearly rolled his eyes. He was aware of how stupid his apology sounded.

_Nice going, Grayson… you are __**such**__ an idiot. Pull yourself together and start acting like a man!_

"Hey, it's okay," Clark said softly. He took Dick by the hand and gently pulled him closer. "You just had a little setback. That doesn't mean you've failed."

"But what if it _does?_" Dick insisted. "What if I _do _fail? What if I can't get better? What if I'm stuck like this forever?"

"You won't be." Now Clark's voice had taken on a firmer tone. "You're going to be just fine. I know you, Dick. You can get through this."

"I wish everyone would quit saying that! Everyone's expecting too much of me—as usual! I can't _do_ all of this!"

He was suddenly struck by the inexplicable urge to cry, but he quickly got hold of himself. There was no way he'd be caught crying in front of Clark _again._

Dick continued, "I just… my whole life, even back at the circus, I was always trying to impress people. But that was with my acrobatics. That was easy."

"You knew recovery would be hard, kiddo," Clark reminded him, not unkindly.

"Yeah, I know… I just don't want to disappoint anybody, that's all. Especially not Bruce."

Clark pulled the boy down so that they were sitting next to each other on the couch. Then he explained, "Now isn't the time to be worried about what other people think. You've been doing that long enough. It's about time you started taking care of yourself."

Dick sighed.

"Somehow, it was a lot easier taking care of everybody else…"

"I know. I've done the same thing myself—staying up all night trying to find out what Luthor's planning, completely ignoring the fact that I wouldn't be able to fight him very well after missing a night's sleep. It was just too easy to ignore my own needs by using the excuse that I needed to help other people."

Dick stared, his wide blue eyes betraying his disbelief.

"What?" Clark said, almost laughing. "You think you're the only one who does that? I'll have you know that it's practically an occupational disease."

"Huh?"

"Being a crime-fighter, I mean. Being overly-selfless comes with the territory as much as the tights do, if not more. Just remember, Dick… being a crime-fighter doesn't mean you have to make crime-fighting your whole life."

"Well don't sit there telling _me_ that, Clark," Dick replied quietly. "I think Bruce needs to hear that a lot more than I do."

"Maybe he does at that."

Silence fell over the room. Clark slowly rubbed his palms together, trying to dry the sweat that had accumulated there during his tense conversation with Wayne's ward. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dick shift uncomfortably. Then he felt gentle pressure as the boy shyly touched his shoulder.

"Thanks anyway," Dick whispered.

Clark reached up and laid his fingers over Dick's.

"Anytime, Dick. Anytime."

---

Bruce had been watching the door very carefully for signs of trouble when Clark finally emerged from the study. Clark knew that Bruce had been waiting for him but pretended not to.

"I suppose he asked you to convince me to remove the locks," were the first words out of Bruce's mouth.

"No," Clark said simply. "He's upset, of course, but he's not going to try to change your mind. He respects you enough not to do that."

The comment was innocent enough, but Clark had put just enough disapproval into his tone to let Bruce know that Dick wasn't the only one who didn't like this new tactic. Bruce noticed this and his eyes narrowed in anger.

"You think I enjoy doing this to him, don't you?"

Clark opened the front door and prepared to leave.

"I know you don't enjoy this," the reporter answered. "I know you hate this as much as the rest of us, and I know that you'd give anything to trade places with that boy… but does Dick know it?"

Bruce turned his head slightly as the door to the study opened again. Dick's footsteps rang across the hall behind him, and then headed up the stairs. Clark waited until Dick was well out of sight before raising his eyebrows meaningfully at Bruce.

Then he left.

Bruce stood there long after the reporter had gone, trying to convince himself how wrong Clark was. Of course Dick knew it. The kid may be sick, but he couldn't possibly believe that his own guardian would be cruel enough to enjoy treating him this way.

Then again…

When was the last time he'd told Dick how he felt about him, anyway? Three years ago? Four? More? And if Dick _did_ know, then how come he had felt it necessary to hide his emotions by stuffing them down and starving them away? Why had the boy pushed himself to the brink of suicide for the sole purpose of trying to please _him?_

Finally, Bruce realized that someone was coming down the stairs. He shook his head as he returned to the present.

He turned around to see Dick standing there, legs spread apart and hands clasped behind his back. His face was the very picture of neutrality, making it impossible for Bruce to determine what the boy was thinking.

It hadn't been so long ago that this same child had willingly shared his feelings with everybody, happily letting everyone into his private world of emotions in a way that his mentor never could.

"Did you want something?" Bruce asked.

"You should have restricted my access to dusting and fingerprint-lifting kits, too, Bruce."

The man raised an eyebrow at the non sequitur. Dick didn't need any encouragement to continue his oddly boastful speech.

"You taught me how to do it yourself," the boy said. "You dust the keypad for fingerprints. Whichever fingerprints show up clearest were applied first, and so on. If you lift fingerprints from a clean surface and apply them to rubber gloves, the analyzer in the lock can't tell the difference."

Bruce's face darkened as his ward's meaning suddenly became obvious.

To illustrate his point, Dick held his hands out in front of him. Bruce soon found himself looking at six small metal locks. They were the ones he'd placed on the upstairs bathrooms.

"Do I have to remove the ones downstairs, too? Or will you do it for me?"

The man crossed his arms, glaring steadily at his ward.

Dick didn't let his disappointment show through. He had known that Bruce would be angry with him for rebelling against an order… but he had also hoped that the man might be just a _little_ proud of him for managing to pull this off in so short a time.

But he wasn't.

…You should have known that by now… since when is anything you do ever good enough? He doesn't even care about you, quit trying to please him… he doesn't care, and you wouldn't deserve it if he did!

_Shut up. Just shut up._

"…Dick, did you hear what I said? Dick!"

"What?" the boy asked automatically. It was obvious, especially to Bruce, that the boy had been in his own little world for the past minute or so. But what had he been thinking about? Well, that was anybody's guess, although anything self-critical would be a likely presumption.

Bruce refused to let his temper get the best of him, so his voice sounded tired as he said instead, "Never mind. It wasn't important. Give me the locks."

Dick did as he was told and waited for his guardian to dish out a punishment. It didn't take Bruce long to realize what Dick was waiting for, and he wasted no time in dismissing the boy, reassuring him that he wouldn't be disciplined for his misdemeanor.

"Just don't do it again."

Dick walked away, not feeling in the least relieved.

Bruce just felt exasperated.

He closed his eyes, replaying his speech over again in his mind:

_"Look, Dick, I won't pretend like I know how you're feeling, because I don't. But I do know that you're upset. And you're frustrated. I feel the same way, but if we can face the criminals that we do on a nightly basis and come through alright, I know we can do the same thing now."_

How do you like that? The one time he could actually say something nice to that kid, and he didn't even have the courtesy to listen.

Well, there'd be time to worry about the unlikely repeat performance later. Right now, they only had half an hour to get ready for Dick's next therapy session.

'Therapy session'. That sounded… saying that Dick was in _therapy_ just sounded so _wrong_. If anyone should be in therapy, it should be Bruce—it wasn't like he'd exactly done a fantastic job of coping with his parents' murder, was it? Meanwhile, compared with his brooding mentor, Dick had always seemed so… normal. Well, not _quite_ normal. He did have his little quirks, Bruce decided, but the boy had been such a bright spot in his life that his presence here had been almost therapeutic in itself.

And now…

He'd done the best he could with the boy. He really had. Bruce knew he hadn't been the best of… parents… but it wasn't like he'd purposefully hurt the child. He hadn't planned on or even really asked for this responsibility—heck, he didn't even _like _kids—but he'd done the best he could.

His best was not enough.

Bruce wasn't used to that.

Bruce was used to being in control and being able to fix things the way he wanted them. He didn't want to have to let some therapist do all the work while he just sat back and watched Dick pick locks.

The therapist called that 'being supportive'. But, as far as Bruce was concerned, it should be called 'being utterly useless'.

_Well, not __**utterly**__ useless,_ the man thought bitterly, sarcastically. _He still needs someone to drive him to the… __**sessions**._

_Now I just need to find him._

Bruce finally found the boy curled up in the window seat in the living room. His knees were pulled up to his chest and his arms were wrapped around his legs. Dick was resting his chin on his knees and staring solemnly out the window. It was bright and sunny outside, but Dick didn't seem to be able to shake his somber mood.

"Time to go, Dick."

"Go where?"

"You know where. Just because you're out of the hospital doesn't mean we're done with therapy."

"And supposing I don't want to go?"

Dick had put just enough of a defiant note in his voice to make Bruce give him a look—one that Dick didn't see, thankfully.

"_That's tough_," was all Bruce said in response to Dick's question.

The boy allowed his left leg to dangle over the edge of the window seat. He laced his fingers around his other leg but didn't answer.

Bruce sighed.

"Dick, you have to trust me on this. It's only ninety minutes, now come on."

"No! I'm sick and tired of being treated like a nutcase! I'm not going!" Dick cried out.

Bruce sighed again. Dick was clearly going to be difficult about this. He'd been stubborn about seeing his therapist before, but he was really digging in his heels this time. Terrific.

"I know you don't want to go, Dick. I'm not thrilled about it either, but it's a critical part of the treatment, and if I have to, I will physically pick you up and carry you there myself!"

"Ha. I'd like to see you _try_."

The boy finally turned and fixed Bruce with a rebellious stare unlike any that had ever crossed his face before. Alfred would have been horrified and scolded Dick about how he should know better than that.

And Dick certainly should have known better.

Faster than Dick could get out of the way, Bruce grabbed his ward around the waist and slung him ingloriously over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"What the! Hey! Just what do you think you're _doing!_ Put me down! _Hey!!_"

Alfred, who had heard the commotion, was now watching the scene from the kitchen doorway with interest. He would have found it amusing if he hadn't known what was going on.

"Hey, can't you hear?! Put me _down!_" Dick bellowed out rashly, in spite of the fact that Bruce was in the perfect position to give him a good spanking. He started thrashing around violently and continued to holler, "_Bruce!_ Aw, c'mon, not in front of _Alfred! _Geez…!"

But Bruce didn't so much as loosen his grip until he sat the boy down in the front passenger seat of the car. He considered buckling the boy in, but Dick snatched the seatbelt away from him and muttered something like, "I can do that _myself_, thank you."

On the silent drive into Gotham, Dick allowed his mind to briefly wander back to what had just happened at the Manor. Only later would it occur to him that Bruce _must_ care about him to actually follow through with his threat. But at that moment he was too angry to really think about it.

* * *

**I have just been informed by my sister that I made a boo-boo in describing Aqualad's costume in the last chapter. His gloves are blue, not red. Shuttling between the comics and the cartoon so often has made me rather confused. We've only got about three comics, but still. O.o Sorry about that.**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**steelelf-**Oh, yeah, I'd definitely read it! And I'll make sure Bruce gets that book. Judging by this chapter, I think he may have read some of it already. Now how about giving Ollie a copy of Communicating for Emotionally Challenged Idiots? That's my sister's suggestion. ;-)

**ShockMePeter-**Yay, thank you! Dick will probably be alright eventually. Unless I decide to kill him first. Hee. Hee hee. XD But for now, that's my little secret.

**Balance in the Dark-**Actually, this fic will be done in about forty pages. I keep planning a sequel but it never goes quite how I want it to. XP

**caltha-**Bruce? Talking? Ehhh... that might take a while. Like the rest of the story, maybe. Anywho, I hope this chapter made you feel better :)

**State of Matter-**Yeah, I guess admitting you have a problem is the first step to overcoming it... now if only _Speedy _would admit that _he_ has problem with actually being nice... :-P

**PlatinumRoseLady-**I have yet to hear about a 'perfect' recovery with no relapses. So it was only natural that Dick would slip a little eventually. A Stone Cold what? Wait, do I even want to know?

**SarahC4321-**Aww, thanks :D But no, the heroin thing hasn't happened yet. If it had, I think Speedy would have a better understanding of how hard it is for Dick to give up his eating disorders, and that would have made him a lot nicer in previous chapters.

**CrazyInsomaniac-**Ha ha, yeah, Aqualad's way too nice for his own good. I wish Wonder Girl would kick Speedy between the legs and get it overwith already, lol.

**kokomocalifornia-**Thank you! I like Aqualad, too! He looks like a girl in the early comics, though... heh...

**Skoellya-**It was so kind of you to say that. Thank you; I'm very flattered :) And yes, Speedy confronts Robin pretty soon.

**AdrenalineRush-**Lol, uh-oh! I'd better post something nicer, and fast! ;-) Just the fact that you thought this fic was worth discussing with others is quite a compliment! Thanks!

**The BatThing-**Well, we _were_ using green paper with really big lines, so that certainly helped. I know, isn't wikipedia great? Well, unless some idiot posts the wrong information, but it's pretty good if you just want info on, say, Aqualad.


	27. Midnight Confessions

**I am SO sorry for the late update!! For those of you who haven't read my profile, the delay is because I was in New York yesterday. I fully intended to update on Friday but this website wouldn't let me make any substantial corrections to my uploaded documents. XP Please forgive me!! I'll try not to let it happen again.**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Twenty-Six: Midnight Confessions

Alfred sat at the kitchen table, allowing himself a rare moment of rest after washing the dishes. He rubbed his eyes, feeling unusually tired. It had never been exactly normal here at Wayne Manor, but things had been extremely hectic lately. He'd be glad when this was just an unpleasant memory—which, he lamented, could be months or even years away.

His break was interrupted when the living room phone rang. If he had been anything besides a proper British butler, he would have sighed. Instead, he simply rose from his chair and went to answer it.

"Wayne residence."

"Alfred? It's Barbara. Is Dick there?"

"I'm afraid not, Miss Gordon. Would you like me to take a message?"

"No, that's okay, thanks Alfred," Barbara said, the disappointment evident in her voice. "I just wanted to see if he was doing alright, that's all."

"Well, he's certainly been better."

"How about you, Alfred? How are you holding up?"

"_I_, Miss Gordon?"

"C'mon, don't play games with me. Surely you must have some opinions about… all this…"

"Well I must admit that I have seen happier days… Do you remember the day you first met him, Miss Gordon?"

"You bet I do," Barbara laughed. "It was at a party just before his first birthday with you at the Manor. He was so little then, I just walked straight up to him and the first words out of my mouth were, 'Hey Shorty, I hear you're birthday's coming up. I bet you'll be six!' He was _so furious_ with me! I was afraid he'd punch my lights out!"

Alfred chuckled at the memory and added, "I don't think he could have _reached_ your lights at that age."

"Maybe not, but he sure would have tried if you hadn't come along and made sure he acted like a gentleman."

"I doubt it, Miss Gordon. He has always known that you should not hit a lady, and even at that young age, he could tell you were most certainly that. He's always thought quite highly of you, you know."

Barbara was silent, making Alfred wonder if she had hung up.

"Are you still there, Miss?"

"…I'm here, Alfred. Just thinking, that's all."

"I understand," the butler said quietly.

"Well…" She paused a moment and swallowed. _Not now, Babs, you can cry later. Pull yourself together! _"Tell Dick I said hi."

"I shall make a note of it, Miss Gordon."

"…Bye…"

Alfred had just hung up the phone when he heard the front door slam. He made it to the entryway in time to see Dick storm upstairs, probably to his room. Alfred didn't even bother to ask what had set him off that time—for one thing, it wasn't his place to ask. And second, it didn't really matter. It could have been quite literally anything that made him lose his temper yet again.

If he saw that Master Bruce needed his help, then he would most surely offer it. But he believed that Master Bruce could handle it at this point.

---

Bruce followed Dick quietly into the house. He was tempted to say that the session had not gone well, but at the same time, it had, in a way. It seemed as if they had finally discovered a possible origin for Dick's eating disorders. It wasn't for certain, and there were definitely other factors that they hadn't discovered yet. But judging by Dick's reaction to the suggestion, this option seemed pretty likely.

Now to get Dick to accept it.

It wouldn't be easy, considering that Bruce himself was still having trouble grasping it. He had just been handed proof that this whole thing was _his_ fault. He should have known—who was closer to Dick than he was? Who did he spend the most time with him? Of course it was his fault… of _course_ it was…

---

Dick paced the length of his room in a fury, the conversation with his therapist constantly replaying in his mind.

"How _dare_ she… the absolute _nerve_ of that woman!" Dick ranted to himself. "Absolutely ridiculous… How dare she suggest that I started it on purpose! Attention-seeking behaviors—_ha!_ That doesn't make any sense at all! Why would I kill myself just to get Bruce to pay attention to me? It's ridiculous… okay, so Bruce cares more about crime-fighting than about his crime-fighting _partner_, which would be me… and… yeah, sure, everything _good_ I do goes unnoticed… but that hardly means I'd consciously… or even subconsciously!… do something _bad_ to make Bruce notice I exist… who cares if she's right? It doesn't make any sense… didn't even _work_… ridiculous… that's what it is… Absolutely ridiculous…"

---

Dinner was eaten in silence that night. Dick dutifully ate what was given to him but refused to discuss what had occurred that day. Bruce knew better than to push it and decided to give the boy a little time to cool off before discussing the therapist's evaluation. Maybe they could talk in the morning, after breakfast.

Patrol was almost silent as well, what with all of the major super villains behind bars. It had been over three months since Robin had abruptly stopped coming out on patrol with Batman, and he still couldn't get used to riding in the Batmobile without the Boy Wonder's cheerful chatter in his ear.

But the Boy Wonder didn't exist now, and Dick Grayson was back home in bed, still weak and underweight from his ordeal.

…He _was _in bed, wasn't he? Dick had picked up the nasty habit of sneaking downstairs to the gym and working out in the middle of the night, so maybe…

Of course he was in bed! Alfred was probably standing guard at the door of the gym making sure Dick didn't get in. And if the boy attempted to use the gym down in the Batcave, his presence would instantly be picked up by the security system Batman had set up. There was a button he'd installed on the dashboard of the car that would light up if there were any unauthorized persons (namely Dick) in the Batcave.

Then again, Dick was a pretty smart kid, and Batman had taught him all about disarming security systems and such. If Dick felt desperate enough, he could easily…

Without a second of hesitation, Batman made a dangerously sharp U-turn and headed for home. He kept his eye on that button more than half the time, only occasionally glancing up to make sure the roadway was clear.

It didn't light up once.

But by the time he'd made it back to the Cave, he discovered that his fears had not been at all unfounded. And apparently, Batman wasn't the only one who had suspected that Dick might attempt something like this.

"I can't believe you came down here to check on me, Alfred!" Dick was saying in a hurt tone, seemingly oblivious to his mentor's presence. "You act like you don't trust me."

Calm as ever, the butler replied, "Playing the martyr does not become you, Master Dick."

Dick glowered but didn't trust himself to speak right away. So instead, he turned to Batman, pointed at Alfred, and hollered, "Will you please tell him that he's wrong?"

"Can't."

"Why not?!"

"He's right."

"I don't believe this! You're all against me!" Dick cried, throwing his hand into the air in a gesture of frustration. "You always monitor what I eat, you put locks on all the bathroom doors in some stupid attempt to keep me out… now you've even forbidden me from coming down here! You don't _trust _me! _Neither_ of you! You're practically smothering me!"

"If you want trust, you're going to have to earn it," Batman told him darkly.

"Oh, so now you're saying I'm not _trying_ hard enough, is that it?"

"You're here, aren't you?"

All he got for the comment was an injured look from his ward and a disapproving one from his butler, but that was more than enough to make him realize that he'd put his foot in his mouth yet again.

"Of course we don't think that," Alfred said. He was clearly trying to see if there was anything of this situation that could be salvaged. "We both know you're trying very hard."

"Maybe _you_ do, but _he_ doesn't," Dick said, throwing another wounded glance in Batman's direction.

"I think it would be best if you went upstairs to bed now, Master Dick," Alfred hinted.

"That's about all I _can_ do these days."

Neither man missed the hint of rage in Dick's voice as he spoke those words. And Batman knew that he'd probably be on the receiving end of_ Alfred's_ rage as soon as Dick was out of earshot.

But Alfred said nothing. It was very unnerving, even to the Bat himself.

"So say something."

Alfred chuckled and picked up a towel that Dick had apparently been using during his brief exercise session.

"That's exactly what Master Dick says whenever I catch him doing something that will get him into trouble. I believe he said it tonight, in fact. You two are so very much alike. I suppose you've heard that before, though, haven't you?"

Batman sighed inaudibly and removed the cowl.

"Is there a _point_ to this lecture, Alfred?"

"No, sir. Only a suggestion."

"Then make it fast. I need to go check on Dick."

"And that is precisely the suggestion I wish to make, Master Bruce. Perhaps the lad had a point when he complained of being… 'smothered'. After all, if someone told _you_ not to do something, or tried to prevent _you _from doing it, wouldn't that make you want to do it all the more, just to show that you could?"

Bruce didn't even change expressions as he asked his old friend to clarify what he was trying to say.

"Well, it's quite simple, Master Bruce—just remove the locks from the bathroom doors and the alarm system here in the Batcave."

"Out of the question," Bruce responded instantly. Then he headed for the open door of the nearby changing room.

"As you say, sir," Alfred quietly complied.

Bruce had been dead-set on keeping all of the security measures in place. But as soon as he heard the way Alfred so patiently agreed to forget the whole idea, he began to reconsider, albeit against his better judgment.

But if Alfred felt it would help Dick, then who was he to second guess the suggestion? Besides, it wasn't like the restrictions were exactly _working_ anyway.

"Alfred."

"You called, sir?"

"You can start by deactivating the security system."

Alfred just smiled and held up a pair of wire cutters he'd picked up off the table.

"I had hoped you might change your mind, sir."

---

Bruce changed quickly and then headed upstairs to bed. Sometimes, the uneventful patrols seemed more tedious than an entire night of tangling with the Joker. He was definitely ready for a few hours of undisturbed rest before having to get up for a day of boring business meetings at Wayne Enterprises.

As he moved stealthily down the hall, he noticed the sound of quiet mutterings and whimpering coming from Dick's room.

Bruce sighed. Dick must be having another nightmare. He hadn't had any of those since his parents' murder, but they'd started up again about six months ago. Dick would usually wake up screaming as soon as Bruce shook him, and then tell his guardian to go away (though Bruce didn't usually listen). Even though he knew he'd be ordered out almost instantly, he couldn't just walk by Dick's room and try to ignore it, not while knowing that he was suffering.

So in he went.

It was an all-too-familiar scene. Dick was tossing around in bed, still asleep, but his face held an expression of agony and was covered in cold sweat. He was trembling very badly; Bruce vaguely wondered if the shivering was caused by the nightmare or the breeze that was coming in through the open window. It was a warm breeze, but it might be enough to make Dick feel chilled.

As he did every time Dick had a bad dream, Bruce sat at the edge of the bed and gave the boy's shoulders a good shake.

"Dick… hey!" he hissed. "C'mon, Dick, wake up!"

Right on cue, Dick sat bolt upright with a strangled cry, breathing hard.

"_I didn't mean it!_" Dick screamed.

"It's okay, Dick… you're okay…"

The boy stared up at Bruce with wide tear-filled eyes.

"I didn't mean it," he said again, this time in a whisper. "I didn't mean it…"

"Didn't mean what?"

The boy shook his head, the tears beginning to fall, and Bruce sighed a little. It seemed Dick could never stop crying these days. He was always upset over something, always in pain.

Upon realizing that he wouldn't get an answer from his ward, Bruce filled the silence by saying, "Don't worry about it tonight. In the morning, we'll…"

Bruce started to rise from the bed. Dick caught his sleeve with a trembling hand, as if begging Bruce to stay with him.

"Please, you gotta believe me. I didn't mean it, honest I didn't!"

Bruce sat back down and placed a warm hand over Dick's. The simple gesture was a question—Bruce was asking Dick to tell him everything. Dick seemed to understand this and took a deep breath to gather what little courage he felt he had left.

"What the doctor said… she was right about everything," the boy confessed, his voice shaky. "Remember how you told me to gain weight? 'Bout a year ago?"

Bruce closed his eyes and nodded. Yes, he remembered. God, how he _remembered_.

"Well… when I _did_ start gaining weight you didn't notice—well, I don't know, maybe you noticed and just didn't say anything. Wouldn't be the first time. Anyway, I guess I kinda figured that if you didn't notice when I did what you wanted me to, maybe you'd notice if I did something I knew you wouldn't like. So I started eating less, like a test to see if you noticed. But you didn't, and then I'd get so hungry and miserable that I'd overeat when I thought nobody was looking. I guess it was sort of a rebellion thing, too, since I've never been allowed to eat as much junk food as I wanted, even back at the circus. That made me feel bad so I started eating even less around you, but you still didn't say anything about it. You just said that I'd gained weight. You finally noticed. But when you did, it made me feel even worse because of how I'd done it. I don't know why, but…" Dick explained. He was beginning to get quite upset but seemed dead set on telling his side of the story.

"…So I ate even less. I don't… I don't even know what happened, I… I never meant for things to go this far. These _voices_ had shown up in my head a few months earlier and now they began telling me that I shouldn't eat because I wasn't _worth_ it and I figured they were right because you never _talk_ to me. And that _hurts_, Bruce! It really, really _hurts!_ I thought I was used to it, but… I…"

And he cried.

Looking back, Dick would find that he couldn't clearly remember very much about that night. He would recall crying a lot, and Bruce holding him close in an eventually successful attempt to comfort him. He also seemed to remember trying desperately to reassure his mentor that none of 'this' was his fault. Dick relayed tales of feeling under pressure to be a perfect leader to the Titans because he knew their lives were in his hands, and of his horrid experiences at school. He'd never told Bruce any of this before, but now, with his tongue loosened by exhaustion, he eagerly told the man everything.

He didn't remember falling asleep, either. But the next morning, he woke up to sunlight streaming in through the open window. He squinted in the bright light, then groaned and rolled over. His eyes just felt so _heavy_ this morning. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep…

Dick had almost succeeded in falling asleep when he heard his bedroom door quietly click open. Footsteps sounded and he managed to crack one eye open to see who the footsteps belonged to. He could just make out the blurry image of Alfred standing over him, checking on him.

"Master Dick? Are you awake?" the butler asked very quietly.

"No," Dick mumbled. He buried his face in the pillow to block out the sunlight and Alfred's chuckles.

"Alright then. I'll come back later," Alfred replied agreeably.

Dick heard Alfred's footsteps once again, but instead of trying to hide from the noise, he sighed and called out, "Don't bother. I'm up now."

"I'm glad to hear it, Master Dick."

"Yippee."

"Would you like something for breakfast?" Alfred continued, ignoring Dick's sarcasm like a pro (which he was).

"No, but something's telling me I'm going to get it anyway," the boy grumbled. "Alright, send it up."

Alfred bowed slightly and began to exit the room. Dick watched until Alfred had left, then grabbed the pillow and put it over his head.

While he was laying there in the dark, the suffocating smell of cloth and detergent filling his nose, Dick suddenly remembered:

Bruce.

Where had Bruce gone after he had fallen asleep? Usually whenever Dick had a nightmare, Bruce made a habit of staying with the boy the rest of the night.

Maybe he didn't care? Maybe he didn't—

_Oh shut up! Look at the sun. It's got to be at least ten o'clock. He probably stayed the night and then left when I didn't wake up at a normal time… my gosh, ten o'clock? I missed my morning work-out! Terrific! That's just ter—_

Dick removed the pillow as his head jerked up in sudden realization.

_I'm still sick._

_Just __**listen**__ to yourself!_Dick thought in horror. _Just listen to what you're thinking! You haven't been allowed to have a five o'clock morning work-out in months, and you're still worried about it!_

_Man…_

He was still sitting there, somewhat shocked by this revelation, when Alfred returned with the breakfast tray.

"Where's Bruce?" Dick asked immediately.

"Master Bruce left early this morning. He did not mention where he was going, but wherever it was, he was certainly not happy about being forced to make the trip."

"Huh," Dick mumbled, looking puzzled. It was obvious that he was trying to figure out where Bruce possibly could have gone. But he eventually just shrugged it off, accepted the tray from Alfred and proceeded to push his food around the plate while eating a minimal amount of it. Dick knew he was in for a scolding if he didn't start some _real _eating, but luckily, he was saved from that by Bruce's entrance.

"Not hungry this morning?"

Okay, maybe he was going to get a lecture anyway.

"Where've you been?" the boy asked, ignoring his mentor's question as Alfred left the room.

"Your school."

"My school? The school year doesn't even start until September. What, did you sign me up for summer school or something? What did I do wrong _now?_"

"_Nothing_. Don't always assume that everything's your fault."

"Sorry, I didn't mean… I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"Yes."

"Sorry—argh! I'm doing it _again!_" Dick yelled in frustration, pulling his hair. "It's like my brain has programmed to do nothing but _apologize_ to everybody!"

Bruce almost rolled his eyes. Looked like they still had a long way to go before Dick stopped trying to be everything to everybody.

"Never mind. Getting back to the original question, I was there to talk with your principal."

"About what?"

"About what's been going on there for the past few years."

Dick blinked.

"You told me just last… you don't remember," Bruce concluded.

"Remember… what?"

"Forget it. It's not that important. Go ahead and eat your breakfast."

"_Bruce_…"

"I said forget it. It's nothing."

Dick scowled and stabbed at his food with a fork in a show of bad sportsmanship. Bruce was just relieved to see him eating.

But Dick didn't seem to appreciate the company.

"Don't you have anything better to do than stare at me?" he hinted bluntly.

"No. But I get the message."

Bruce, on a sudden impulse, reached over and ruffled Dick's hair slightly. He was rewarded with a shy smile and a giggle. Bruce decided not to ruin the moment by commenting that Dick was in desperate need of a haircut. Alfred might say something later, although that was doubtful. They'd probably just let it go until Dick was feeling better and wasn't as hung up on his physical appearance.

"Once you've finished eating, get dressed and come downstairs. I want to talk to you… and don't look at me like that. You're not in any trouble."

---

Dick sat on a chair in front of the bathroom mirror, every so often growling in frustration. He didn't remember what had happened that night, but whatever it was had left him feeling exhausted. As a result, he was having a bit of trouble combing his hair. He just couldn't seem to brush hard enough to get out the knots.

It reminded him all too much of his early days at the hospital, when he'd been too weak to even stand up in the shower.

_At least I can do __**that**__ now. And at least Bruce finally took the stupid locks off the bathroom doors…_

_But I still can't comb my hair!_

He slammed the comb down onto the countertop, barely resisting the urge to fling the comb at the mirror. This was so not fair! Since when did trying to lose a few pounds mean not even being able to comb your own hair? This—

Dick jumped slightly as someone knocked on the door.

"Come in!" he yelped in surprise. "Oh. Hey, Bruce. I'll be down in a sec."

"You've been up here a while. You alright?"

"_No,_ I haven't been throwing up again, if _that's_ what you meant. Can't a guy comb his hair without being suspected of anything?"

"That _wasn't_ what I meant, Dick," Bruce said quietly. "I meant _alright_. As in living, breathing, and nobody's holding a gun to your head."

"Oh. Well, in that case, I'm fine."

_How many times have I heard __**that**__ phrase?_ Bruce thought, sighing to himself. He watched carefully as Dick picked up his comb and pretended to look busy grooming himself. But there was something wrong with what he was doing… in fact, he wasn't doing _anything_.

"You can leave, you know. I'll be down as soon as I finish here."

"No offense, kid, but something's telling me that might take a while."

Dick made a face at Bruce's reflection in the mirror. Then he slammed the comb down again, crossed his arms, and sulked. He heard Bruce's footsteps making their way across the floor, and the scraping sound of the comb as it was lifted from its spot on the small countertop.

"Here. I'll do it."

"_You?_" Dick scoffed. "Sorry, Bruce, but half the time you don't even bother to comb your _own_ hair. I mean, except when we've gotta go to some society thing or something, then you…"

The sentence went unfinished as it finally registered that Bruce had already started… and wasn't doing badly, either. Aside from the usual little jolts of pain whenever the teeth of the comb hit a knot, things went quite calmly, peacefully even.

Dick felt his eyes closing slightly. He hadn't felt this relaxed since… he couldn't even remember. Letting someone else do all the work wasn't something that Dick was accustomed to, but in this case, it was kind of nice.

All too soon, the comb hit the counter again.

"Done."

Dick gazed at his reflection in the mirror. It wasn't exactly the way he usually styled his hair, but at that moment, he couldn't care less.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"Meet me in the living room when you're ready."

Dick watched in the mirror as Bruce turned and left the room. The wooden door closed almost silently behind him.

The boy glanced down at his lap, noticing for the first time how loose-fitting the gray pants were on him. Ninety-one pounds used to be so huge to the boy, but it was becoming smaller all the time. He was a _gymnast_, for heaven's sake; he was supposed to weigh more than average because of muscle mass… even if all that muscle did make his short frame look a bit… stocky…

_Oh shut __**up.**_

He stood up and stormed from the bathroom, not quite sure why he was angry. He'd described himself as stocky before the anorexia had affected him. So why did it make him so upset now? Anything besides 'thin' was not satisfactory anymore. Even muscular was unacceptable, although that _was_ one of the words on his…

List.

_The list…_

Dick paused on his way down the stairs. Then, nodding at his decision, he went back up to his room. With a steady and determined gait, Dick walked up to his desk and opened a drawer. Right on top was the list. It had been scribbled untidily in various colors and inks over the course of many months.

But now it was time to bring that chapter of his life to an end.

Dick lifted the tattered sheet of paper from its designated spot in the drawer. He looked it a moment before tearing it in half and tossing it into the wastebasket.

He didn't want to play that sick game with himself anymore.

He'd had enough.

Dick wished he felt a sense of power and triumph as he threw the list away, but he couldn't. He didn't even pretend that this was a victory against his illness. After all, he had already memorized the list, and it would take much longer to erase the mental scars than it would to tear up a sheet of paper.

Then he headed downstairs to talk with Bruce.

The so-called talk only ended in more yelling, more tears, and virtually no progress.

Dick knew it was his fault—he should have controlled his temper. He knew Bruce was just trying to help him by offering to spend the day with him… but Dick couldn't help it if he was scared.

For years, Dick had been studying hard and trying his best to make people like him, not realizing that his sprightly personality had already won him more friends than he could count. The only thing Dick had ever been able to hear from people was that he was either too smart or needed to study more. So now that someone was actually making a visible effort to do something with him—to 'be friends', as it were… he was just too scared to accept it, too scared of messing up his only chance.

He didn't even realize how familiar his mentor was with this situation.

_Tomorrow,_ Dick told himself as he cried in his room. _Tomorrow things will be different…_

Sure they would. Sure, things would be different. Different _how?_ Would he wake up tomorrow to realize that he was suddenly, miraculously cured? That he could eat more than 500 calories a day without worrying about going over the one hundred-pound mark? That gymnastics could go back to being a fun activity instead of just another way to lose weight? That he could step on the scale and not worry about how high or low the number was?

Sure, that would happen. About as soon as he rejoined Haly's Circus.

No, things would get worse before they got better, at least in Dick's view. For starters, he still had a good amount of weight to gain. Although he'd be considered healthy for his height within a few more pounds, he'd have to face additional weight gain if he went through another growth spurt or when he increased the amount of exercise, which would cause the muscle to come back as well as the fat. Then, of course, there was that annoying little issue of actually keeping the weight _on_…

And what if he never gained _any_ weight? What if he never recovered and was stuck like this forever? How much longer would he have to live if he kept on refusing his food or eating too much food at a time? Not very long at all.

More importantly, would Bruce still want him around then? If Dick couldn't—or refused to—recover, he would never be Robin ever again. All the time and trouble Bruce had invested in training his ward would have been for nothing. Would Bruce forgive him for that, or was Robin the only part of Dick Grayson that he'd ever really wanted?

Sitting there alone in his room, Dick was once again overcome by the powerful urge to prove himself to his mentor. He couldn't just _sit_ here, for heaven's sake—there were things to do! He had to get out there and _do_ something!

If he could just get back in costume, only for a moment…

Well, why couldn't he? He'd go visit his old room at the Tower, too, while he was at it. He wasn't sure what good it would do, but it would be nice to see the place outside of the bathroom.

* * *

**Oh yeah. The title of this chapter is not mine either--I stole it from a Grass Roots song. And a note about the hair thing--not all people with anorexia are as lucky as Dick seems to be in that department. Some people with eating disorders actually start to lose their hair. It has something to do with the lack of vitamins... B and E, possibly others (yes, of course I know what I'm talking about... O.o)**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**caltha-**That's an interesting combination :) As for Dick getting well, he'd better do it quick since there's only about two chapters left of this story!

**AdrenalineRush-**Stabbed?! Oooh, can't wait to read that one (as long as Dick is still Robin, that is, I've sorta got issues if it's anything else...). Anywho, yeah, I liked writing that scene, too.

**PlatinumRoseLady-**Aqualad with purple gloves--now _there's_ an idea! And OUCH, that sounds like it hurts. Except for maybe Speedy like you said, LOL. XD

**BatThing-**Hmph, as soon as you start saying how punctual I am, I have to update a day late!! XP Anyway, I read the eighth chapter of your fic, and I just want to say... Dick, what is wrong with you?! The last thing you need now is a drug overdose!! (cough) You're lucky you uploaded that chapter because I was about to threaten not updating until you did.

**ShockMePeter-**Heh, I got your PM. Sorry for the late update, won't happen again. I hope. And if you want angst, you should enjoy the next chapter (hint, hint).

**kokomocalifornia-**Thank you :)

**CrazyInsomaniac-**Yes! Let's experiment! (pulls on goggles and cackles like Dr. Frankenstein) As for Bruce, he's pretty nice in the last chapter in an indirect sort of way. Hang in there!

**Lil' Kanny-**Yay, thanks! This story is coming to a close pretty soon. I'm very glad you've enjoyed it, though! And be sure to let me know when you post another story, lol.

**Matt the Batman Fan-**Actually, I just didn't include every single fight because I didn't feel it was necessary. Of course, I'm always open to the idea of my being wrong, so I'll be sure to keep this in mind for my next story. Thanks for taking the time to point this out!

**SparklesPlenty-**I always liked the idea of Superman being Dick's 'Uncle Clark', especially when Bruce gets jealous!! Hee hee.

**FrozenWaterLily-**Well, I don't think Bruce knows how to express affection any other way :-P Now if only Dick would wake up and realize what it meant...


	28. Broken Glass

**The title of this chapter (and this story) was inspired by a song my uncle wrote--I sorta borrowed it without permission. (COUGH) Um... and one of the scenes in this chapter is based off a verse in his song too... I hope he doesn't find out about this... he's the one with the Davy Jones tickets for this summer... O.o**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Broken Glass

A light in the Tower's meeting room flickered on as four teenage superheroes returned from their latest mission. They were happily chatting amongst themselves—not quite as animatedly as they used to, but it was happy talk nonetheless. All were eager to clean up the Tower and go home, so their prattle was reduced to a minimum as they went about their work.

"I went to see Dick this morning," Kid Flash said at one point.

"There's a new one. Why don't you just move into Wayne Manor with the guy and save yourself the trouble of traveling back and forth all the time?"

"_Speedy!_" the others yelled. The archer just shrugged and rather roughly pushed in a chair.

"How is he doing?" asked Wonder Girl.

"Pretty good, I guess. Oh, and he finally confessed that he was the one responsible for all that food going missing a few months ago. Remember that? Anyway, he apologized—about twenty times—and gave us a few thousand to cover expenses."

"A few _thousand?_" Aqualad repeated in shock. "_Dollars?_"

"No. Apple seeds."

"…Why would Dick give us apple seeds?"

"Forget it."

"A few thousand dollars seems awfully generous, though," Wonder Girl observed, sounding awed and dismayed all at once. "I hope you refused the offer."

"I tried. He won," the speedster explained. "He may be sick, but he could still use me as a dust mop if he wanted to."

"Why am I not surprised?" Speedy snorted. Kid Flash shot him a withering look and barely resisted the urge to break a chair over the irritating bowman's head.

"Well you boys have a nice chat, and try not to hurt each other," Wonder Girl interrupted. "As much as I'd like to stay here and watch, I really should go."

"And Arthur is waiting for me in Atlantis," Aqualad put in. "We'll see you both soon, alright? And please, no fights."

Speedy and Kid Flash mumbled their agreements as the other two left.

They had only been alone for about two minutes before Kid Flash, in a completely casual tone, asked Speedy, "So why haven't you been to see Dick yet?"

"I just haven't had the time… you know…"

"No. I _don't_ know," Kid Flash said shortly. He turned and looked Speedy right in the eye. "All of us have visited Dick about four/five times already. It's been two months already—I should think you'd be able to make some time in your _busy schedule_ to talk to him for ten minutes!"

"Hey, I don't have to see him if I don't want to! I don't owe him anything!" Speedy yelled.

"Don't you?"

The boys looked up from their argument to see Aqualad standing in the doorway, watching them pensively.

"What do you want, Gillhead? I thought you left with Wonder Girl."

"I left my communicator here."

Speedy and Kid Flash watched with suspicious eyes as the Atlantean meandered over to the meeting table and picked up the small metal object on top of it. He gazed at the communicator for a moment before tucking it back into his belt. Without looking up, he asked in his quietest voice, "Are you sure you don't owe Dick anything, Roy?"

"Now what's _that_ supposed to mean?" Speedy asked defensively.

Aqualad didn't answer directly. Instead, he asked another question.

"Do you remember the case a couple of years ago when we were investigating that factory in Mexico? You were captured and tied up near the riverbank so you'd drown as soon as they broke the dam."

Speedy promptly turned pink at the reminder.

"I was unable to do anything about it then as they had captured me as well," Aqualad continued. "But Kid Flash was there. Do you remember, Kid Flash?"

"Sure do," the speedster agreed with a nod. "Robin practically drowned trying to save your sorry hide, Speedy-o. I seem to remember his spending a night in the JLA Infirmary because of that little incident."

"So did I!" Speedy yelled, sounding indignant.

"Yes," confirmed Aqualad. "But you did not have a choice. You did not choose to be kidnapped, but Robin _did_ choose to dive in and save you. And do you remember all of the other times Robin has saved your life, Roy? And even if it was not something as big and important as that, he was almost always willing to help you with your homework if you had trouble, or to train you—and the rest of us—in fighting techniques and other things."

Aqualad paused as Speedy bowed his head. Yes, now that Gillhead mentioned it, he remembered all of those things. He wasn't stupid; he knew he wasn't the easiest person to get along with, or to take charge of. Heck, Ollie could have told him that.

Aqualad knew he had Speedy right where he wanted him. So he repeated the seemingly innocent question:

"Are you sure you don't owe him anything, Roy?"

Then he turned and left the room without another word. Kid Flash soon followed, leaving Speedy alone to think things over.

---

Speedy remained in the Tower long after the others had left. Okay, so Gillhead and Twinkletoes had made a couple of good points, but they just didn't _get_ it. He couldn't visit Dick—that would just make everything worse.

I mean, whose fault was it that Dick was sick in the first place?

Roy Harper's, naturally.

Nobody knew it, but Kid Flash had accidentally left his report on eating disorders all over the meeting table one afternoon several months ago, and Speedy had chanced a peek at some of the notes. He'd only had time to read a little bit, and that bit had explained that people with EDs often had problems at home. Well, Dick had been a perfectly happy (if not nerdy) teen until Roy started badgering him about how his guardian never paid attention to him, which had probably gotten Dick wondering, and now…

Speedy shook his head. How could he visit Dick? He wouldn't know what to do. He wouldn't even know what to _say_ to an anorexic, for crying out loud. Everything he'd said to Rob these past few months had resulted in temper tantrums, and Speedy saw no reason why he would start saying something decent now.

But the other Titans would keep pestering him until he visited the guy. So no sense in delaying the inevitable. Besides, it might not be so bad. Who knew? Robin might even forgive him.

Yeah, right.

And so, with a resigned sigh, Speedy headed to his room to change. Then he'd call Wayne Manor and let them know he was coming.

No… no, maybe he'd surprise them… it wasn't like he was going for a full visit, anyway. He'd just pop in and out, show his face to let Dick know he hadn't forgotten about him and to get the others off his back. Yeah, that's what he'd do…

---

"_Gone? _What do you mean, _gone?!_"

Roy was incredulous as Alfred repeated the simple message—Dick had vanished. Alfred had gone up to check on the boy before lunch only to find that his room had been abandoned. There was no sign of a struggle, all of his clothes were still there… he was just _gone_.

"And you have no idea where he is?" the red-head queried.

"None at all, Master Roy," the butler admitted. "I'm afraid I will have to call Master Bruce and inform him of the situation—he's been at business meetings all day."

Alfred sighed.

"I'm afraid he isn't going to like this…"

"No, wait…"

Roy placed a hand on Alfred's arm and paused, his brow furrowed in concentration.

_If I were Dick, where would I go…?_

Roy snapped his fingers.

"I think I know where he is."

As he jogged to the Batcave to use the transporter, he called over his shoulder, "Don't worry, Alf! I've got it covered!"

---

After returning to the Titans' Tower, Speedy crept silently through the halls, hoping that Dick wouldn't be able to hear his approach. Dick's ears were pretty sharp, though, so Speedy had to be extra careful as he got closer and closer to Dick's old room.

Where else could Dick go, he wondered?

But it wasn't Dick he found standing in the near-empty room.

It was _Robin_.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Robin barely even looked up. Just stood in front of the mirror, watching his bony face stare back at him.

"I suppose Batman sent you here to find me," Robin said. There was a fair amount of disgust in his tone, which surprised Speedy.

"No," the young archer replied. "He doesn't even know you're missing yet."

"Don't worry. He knows."

Robin's voice was quiet as he said this, as if he was too weak and tired to speak any louder. This was the first time Speedy had seen him in over two months, and Robin still looked pretty skinny to him. He wondered how the Boy Wonder had managed to get himself out of bed, into costume, and over to the Tower without passing out.

Then again, maybe he had. Who knew?

"I don't think he knows quite yet. Last time I checked, he was trapped in some business meeting…"

"Figures." Robin sighed dejectedly and leaned heavily against the wall. "You were right all along, Speedy, he doesn't care about me. Never did. Just business meetings and night patrol. I've finally figured that out. Guess I kinda knew it all along but was just too stupid to admit it."

"You're not stupid."

_Real smart thing to say, Harper. It's not like he's going to __**believe**__ you…_

Sure enough…

"Yes I am and you know it. Let's face it."

Robin wiped at his eyes, muttering something about allergies, while Speedy tried to figure out something to say that wouldn't do any more damage. He wasn't usually at a loss for words, but he just didn't know what to _say_ to an anorexic.

Yes, that was it. That's what he'd say.

_I can't believe I'm doing this…_

"Robin… you were right all along. I was the one who didn't know what he was talking about. We've all seen the way the Bat's being taking care of you. He really does care—I can tell. I was completely outta line when I told you different. I should have just… kept my big mouth shut. Hey, I mean, _you're_ the leader of the Titans, remember? You should have told me to can it."

"I did. Multiple times."

Speedy blinked. Was it just him, or was that a bit of friendly sarcasm that had been absent from Robin's voice for far too long?

"Look, Speedy, I know what you're trying to do. And I appreciate it. But it's just not true. I know that now."

Speedy sighed and took a couple of steps forward.

"Robin… I know you're not going to believe this… but there are a whole lot of people out there who care about you like crazy…"

"What _for?_"

"Because you're just that kind of a guy," said Speedy.

Silence reigned as Robin slowly turned to look at his fellow Titan. He gazed at the young archer for a moment, as if examining him.

"You really believe that, don't you?" Robin said softly, wonderingly.

"No duh," Speedy replied, trying to lighten the mood. Then, becoming serious again, he said quietly, "I just wish you'd let yourself believe that, too, Rob."

Robin bowed his head. It was clear that he was quickly losing his battle with the tears, although Speedy could tell he was trying.

"I _can't_," Robin finally sobbed in despair. He slowly made himself stand up straight and face the mirror, the tears coming faster and heavier as he continued to stare at his reflection.

"Look at me!" he cried out. "Why can't you see? Why can't any of you _see?_"

Then Robin wound up his fist and drove it into the mirror.

---

Dr. Thompkins spent the next hour gingerly picking small pieces of glass out of Robin's bloody hand. The boy sat silently, only occasionally cringing when a piece of glass was removed, while Speedy gave Green Arrow a call to let him know that he might not be home for a while. He refrained from explaining why, aside from saying that he was with Dick.

"All set, Robin," Leslie said as she put the bandage in place.

Robin didn't acknowledge the comment. He just lowered his hand and continued staring into space, his expression void of any apparent emotion. After Robin had broken down in the Tower, Speedy had instantly taken his friend by the shoulders and guided him into the bathroom to place a cold towel on his hand to stop the bleeding. He hadn't bothered to try to remove the torn glove just yet. He had felt that that task was best left up to a professional who wouldn't hurt Robin any more than necessary.

And after Robin's tears stopped, he just shut down, refusing to respond to anything. He hadn't spoken, hadn't changed expressions… just stared blankly into space, his eyes moist, as if trying to control himself. Speedy could hardly believe that this was the same cocky, confident teenager who had saved so many lives, who had seemed so perfect that it was infuriating.

Now look at him.

This was what you got for trying to _be_ so perfect, Speedy figured. For not giving yourself a chance to take pride in the small victories, and to just accept the fact that you were human and were allowed to make mistakes.

Robin just couldn't do that.

"You want to tell me what happened, Robin?" Leslie asked quietly.

The Boy Wonder turned to face his long-time friend, the same vacant expression still plastered onto his face, hiding the raging emotions better than any mask or cowl.

He'd had a lot of practice hiding.

"You can tell me, Robin. You know you can talk to me."

"The mirror," Speedy jumped in. "He, uh… he punched the mirror, broke the glass."

"No," Robin countered in a very, very small voice. "The glass was already broken."

Robin spared Leslie a brief glance before hopping off the examination table. Leslie and Speedy watched as he went over to the window, leaned against the frame and gazed up at the sun.

---

Bruce came back from the meetings in a worse mood than usual. He had tried to get out of the last meeting early, but that effort had proved futile. So he ended up listening to three hours worth of boring chatter about some merger with a business on the West coast.

What did he care about a business merger _now,_ for heaven's sake? He had more important things to worry about.

Imagine Bruce's surprise when he found Dick upstairs, sound asleep thanks to the sleeping pills Leslie had given him…

…and Speedy, still in costume, standing guard over his friend.

Bruce instantly knew that the day had not been uneventful.

"What happened?" were the first words out of his mouth.

Speedy's head jerked up at the sound of Bruce's voice. He obviously hadn't been expecting anyone or paying very close attention to his surroundings.

Bruce glanced down at his ward and cocked an eyebrow at the bandage on his right hand.

"What's that for?"

Speedy bowed his head a little. Bruce vaguely wondered what he was in for as the teen began to explain…

"…I would have stopped him if I could, but he just…"

"I know you would have."

The archer swallowed hard. He knew what he had to do, but it was just so darned hard to admit it, especially to Bruce, who happened to be a sturdy six-foot-two and could probably kill him with one punch.

"Mr. Wayne, it's my fault Robin's got the stupid disorder."

"What?"

Speedy swallowed again. Why was he doing this, anyway? Geez… he was turning into such a sap!

"I know what you're thinking, but… you see, I was always pestering Rob about how you never paid any attention to him. I said that that basically meant you didn't care about him. I didn't really mean it… well, okay, yes I did… but I never wanted _this_."

Speedy shrugged his shoulders in resignation.

"I was just mad because Ollie kept ignoring me all the time and I wanted to take it out on somebody. But if I had known that he was actually taking me seriously, I would have cut it out, honest!" the boy declared emphatically. Then, in a softer voice, he added, "I didn't mean for him to get sick."

Bruce was silent for a minute. Speedy was a surprisingly good kid at heart, in spite of the fact that he usually acted—as Dick put it—like a bonehead.

"That's what Wally said," Bruce admitted at last.

"Wally talked to you?" Speedy asked, surprise evident in his tone.

"Yes. And if I give them enough time, I'm sure all the others will be coming forward with their own excuses, and I'll be telling them the exact same thing—that they're not responsible for Dick's illness. Just like you aren't."

And Speedy believed him. After all, if Batman really thought he was responsible, he probably would have beaten him up by now.

"Is there anything I can do?" the boy asked. "For Dick… I mean, like, making sure he doesn't sneak into the bathroom to puke or something…"

"No."

Well, that ended_ that_ conversation.

Or did it?

"No thank you, Speedy," Bruce rephrased his response. "I'll call you if we need anything, or if Dick asks for you."

Speedy nodded. Now _that_ was the end of the conversation.

As Speedy headed for the Cave to use the transporter back to the Watchtower, Bruce pulled out a cell phone and put a call through to Oliver Queen.

He was going to have a talk with him about the way he was raising that boy.

Speedy was a surprisingly good kid and was obviously a good devoted friend to Robin. This was the least he could do in return.

* * *

**Did that chapter seem cheesy? Oh well... at least Speedy isn't acting like a jerk anymore.**

_**Reviewer Replies**_

**caltha-**Well, after Dick spilled it to Bruce about how moronic his classmates were acting, Brucie decided to, um, do something about it. That's why. And yeah, I figure using hair loss as a symptom would go completely unappreciated, at least around here. XD

**ShockMePeter-**That's okay, I didn't mind :) And that extra hair is called lanugo; it's the body's attempt to keep itself warm due to extreme weight loss (no, I didn't sound like a show-off there... let's just pretend I didn't say that...). And no, no more suicide attempts here!

**Boleyn-**I'm going to post an epilogue after I finish posting this story. I've written two, actually--one in which he dies and the other in which he doesn't. I've already decided which to post... muahahaha...

**PlatinumRoseLady-**Why, thank you! (bows) ;-)

**Lil' Kanny-**I didn't want it to end, either. Now I've got nothing to post for a while. And, well, as you can see, Dick didn't really get the chance to do much of anything...

**Adren-**In that case, if you ever post, I'll definitely read! And as for Dick not remembering, well, he had a rough night. Also, memory problems can sometimes be found in people who have starved themselves. Something to do with thiamine, I think.

**arya-**Really? Wow, thanks! And, er (cough) yes, we see the Titans again... ha... thank you for reviewing! I appreciate it lots.

**kokomocalifornia-**I was hoping you'd like it :)

**steelelf-**(is surprised) That was your favorite? I don't think I was expecting that, but it's definitely a pleasant surprise! As for Bruce, I think you'll like what he does next chapter (hint, hint).

**The BatThing-**That's nothin'. I was actually gonna do it, too! XP Just don't expect Bruce to start a career in hair styling; I think he's retired now. As for fathers doing the cooking, that's never been a big deal for me. My dad used to be a chef at the Marriott, so he does lots of cooking around here. Of course, that's just _my_ family. Don't know about anyone else's...


	29. Six Months Later

**Well, we made it! This is officially the last chapter of the story. Thankies to everybody who has stuck with me this long--your support was much appreciated :) The epilogue will be posted separately in about a week. Then you will finally know if Dick dies or not... (maniacal evil cackling) BTW, I reference a couple of my other fics in this one, but it's only for one scene, so it shouldn't mess you up too much.**

* * *

Broken Glass

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Six Months Later

Wally, Roy, Garth, Donna, and Barbara walked up to the front door of Wayne Manor and were let in by Alfred, as usual. It had been four months since Dick had been released from the hospital and six months since he had—albeit reluctantly—started working on his recovery programs. And judging by the way Alfred actually smiled for the first time in weeks when he let them in, things were obviously going well.

But Babs asked him how Dick was anyway.

"He's… _better_, Miss Gordon, thank you for inquiring. I trust that you and your friends are here to visit the young master?"

"You bet!" Wally agreed enthusiastically. He was happy to hear that Dick had improved since his last visit two weeks ago. "We even brought a present for him."

The red-headed boy held up a medium-sized gift-wrapped package.

_And what a present!_ Donna thought with a big grin. It wasn't especially expensive or elaborate or anything like that, but it had come from the hearts of all of Dick's friends—both young and old—and she just knew he'd love it!

"I am sure Master Dick will appreciate the fact that you were kind enough to think of him," Alfred told them. Then he informed the young people that Dick was reading in the living room, and that they could go straight in.

"Thanks!" Roy cried, and he was off like a shot, leaving his friends in the proverbial dust. Wally pretended to be upset.

"If only we were in costume—I'd tell him where to put it!" he grumbled good-naturedly. Donna giggled as the rest of them proceeded into the Wayne living room.

By the time they got there, Roy was already holding a one-sided conversation with Dick, who was gazing placidly up at his friend. Garth noticed that he was still a bit underweight from a recent relapse, but nothing like he had been that summer.

"…and Ollie even got us tickets to the baseball game next weekend!" Roy was saying animatedly.

Dick tightened the blanket around his shoulders and grinned at the red-head. Although it was a pale imitation of his usual sunny smile, Wally took it as a good sign.

"That's great, Roy… hi, people."

The others chorused their greetings and went over to surround their friend, who was sitting on the couch. Roy was already seated next to him, so Donna took the armrest, Wally settled himself on the coffee table, Garth sat on the floor in front of the table, and Babs leaned against the back of the couch.

"What have you all been up to?" queried Dick.

"Nothing special," Barbara answered.

In an undertone, Dick asked, "How are the Titans doing?"

"Alright," Donna shrugged. Then she added, somewhat shyly, "But we really miss you being there."

"Yeah—Gillhead is a lousy leader," whined Roy. "He made me order anchovies on the pizza last weekend!"

"I did not!" Garth protested. The others laughed, and even Dick giggled a bit. Donna couldn't resist giving him a little hug at the sound.

"Which brings us to the gift," Wally announced happily.

"I was wondering when you'd hand that thing over!"

Dick accepted the neatly-wrapped present with a polite 'thank you' and promptly began to shake it to see if he could figure out what was inside.

"Well it feels kind of like a book…"

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Barbara grumbled jokingly. "Will you just open that thing already?"

"Hey, I haven't been out on patrol recently. I'm just trying to keep my detective skills up to snuff, okay?" said Dick. Nobody could tell whether he was serious or not, so they just kept quiet as he tore the wrapping paper off. Dick noted that the paper was covered in birds, many of them robins.

Maybe they were serious… maybe they _did_ miss him… maybe he _was_ worthy of the love and respect they were offering him…

Maybe…

Dick gazed at the cover of his new book in wonderment and a bit of confusion. It had been homemade, obviously, and was decorated with pressed flowers and little shapes cut out of colored paper. Right in the middle was a photo of the Titans in their civilian clothes; it had been taken last Christmas. Barbara still had to marvel at the fact that, in their jeans and old sweaters, they looked just like any other group of teenagers.

"Hey, now, this is nice…" Dick complimented his friends. "Um… what is it?"

"Open it up and see, Batboy," Roy quipped. Dick pretended to be annoyed with the junior archer but did as he said.

"It's a scrapbook!"

"Now wasn't that easier than using an x-ray machine to solve the case?"

"Shut up, Roy!" the others chorused.

"_Thank_ you," said Dick. Then he redirected his attention to the first two pages of the scrapbook. It was filled with various photos and mementos which Dick recognized instantly.

"Hey, these are from our trip to Disneyworld, aren't they?" he observed with a laugh, glancing at Roy and Wally.

"You bet they are!" agreed Wally. "And lookit _this _pic!"

The red-headed speedster pointed at a photo in the upper right hand corner. It showed Wally and Roy on Splash Mountain during the part of the ride where they went down the five-story drop, and Roy looked like he was about to be desperately ill.

"Geez, even Bruce did better than that…"

"Shut up," Roy grumped.

"You see, we got almost everybody you know to make a couple of pages about their favorite moments with you. That's why the book is so long—you have a lot of friends," Wally cheerfully explained to Dick, ignoring the embarrassed/horrified look on Roy's face and the giggles of the others. "This page is from Roy and Ollie and me, as you probably guessed."

"And adding that picture was _not_ my idea."

"Aw, it's funny, Roy. And I needed a laugh," Dick replied.

Well, that got a smile out of the half-humiliated Harper boy. He was finally doing something right for a change—cool!

The young people took a few moments to discuss the wonderful memories on those two pages. Dick, Wally, and Roy spent a good deal of time explaining things to the others since Barbara and Garth hadn't been there, and they hadn't even known Donna back then.

Eventually, Dick got around to turning the page.

"Oh! This one's from Barry Allen and me!" Barbara cried excitedly.

"Yeah," Wally added, his previous good mood gone. "And wait'll you catch a glimpse of _these_ shots, Dickie!"

Dick obediently bent over the scrapbook, examining the pages closely. Most of the photos were quite fuzzy, but what really caught his eye was the newspaper clip that had been taped right in the middle of the first page.

'Justice League Teams With Joker In Worldwide Crime Spree', said the headline.

"…Wait a minute…"

"What does this mean?" Garth inquired.

Ignoring him and glaring at Barbara, who was smiling angelically at the boys, Wally growled, "This is when Robby and I practically got killed during our sidekick strike. Remember, Dick?"

"How could I forget? Hey, I never knew you were there, _Batgirl_."

"I only followed you for a little while," she defended herself with a suppressed chuckle. "Then I ran out of film in the camera and went home. You didn't seriously think I wouldn't get at least _some_ of that little escapade on film, did you?"

"You shoulda stuck around, Bat-chick," Wally interjected. "Then we might not have gotten spanked by the Justice League."

"You two sure had some interesting adventures before we met," Donna commented, looking directly at Dick and Wally. "I hope the pages Diana and I made will bring back equally happy memories for you, Dick, even if they aren't as exciting."

"C'mon, Donna, we've had plenty of exciting times together!"

"Like what?"

"Shut up, Roy… and get your mind out of the gutter! That isn't what I meant!"

They spent at least another thirty minutes sitting there, going through the scrapbook and sometimes ending up quite giggly at the memories. At one point, Alfred came in and served the group hot chocolate, which made it doubly dangerous to read the scrapbook as they now had to try not to spit cocoa out their noses from laughing so hard.

But, as happy as he was, there was just one thing Dick noticed, one thing he wished didn't upset him as much as it did—there was nothing from Bruce in the scrapbook. That must have been what the guys had meant when they said that _almost_ everybody had participated in the project.

_Well, what did you expect? We're discussing __**Bruce**__ here._

Dick tried to push the disappointment and feelings of worthlessness out of his mind and instead concentrated on the remaining pages.

All too soon, Dick had reached the end of the scrapbook. On the very last page were taped a bunch of envelopes, some of them overlapping at the corners. All were addressed to him.

"What's this?" he asked.

"The five of us wrote letters for you," Garth explained. When Dick made a move to open one of the envelopes, the Atlantean gently took Dick by the wrist and softly instructed, "Not now. It would take too long to read them all now… read them later."

"Okay," Dick agreed with a shrug.

So he closed the book instead.

"Well, anyway, I don't know how to thank you guys for this. You obviously went to so much trouble just to make this thing for me. I…"

Dick was cut off by a chorus of voices insisting "Don't mention it", "It wasn't any trouble" and the like. He smiled gratefully and asked, "So what made you all decide to make a scrapbook?"

The others exchanged glances, looking too modest and shy to answer the question. Even Roy looked bashful.

"Guys…?"

Finally, Barbara realized that everybody was looking at _her_. She sighed. There were some distinct disadvantages to being the oldest.

"We… we figured that reminding you of all the good times we've had together would help make you want to get better," she explained quietly. "That way we could start having more good times again. We wanted you to know how much we missed you… and how much we want you back."

Dick looked down at the book and swallowed, unable to answer right away.

"Well… I… really don't know what to say… I…"

"Then do us both a favor and shut up. OW!!!"

That was when Wally had kicked Roy in the shin.

"That's okay, Wally," Dick assured him with a rueful smirk. "I'm the one who taught him that joke."

Barbara was still giggling at the exchange between them when Alfred came in to announce that dinner was ready.

"Coming," Dick replied. He closed the scrapbook and laid it down on the coffee table.

---

Dick leaned against the pillows and opened the scrapbook in his lap. His friends had gone home right after dinner, so he figured that just before bed was as good a time as any to check out the mysterious envelopes on the last pages of his scrapbook. He would give the book a permanent home in the Batcave later on. He didn't dare keep it upstairs for too long; he loved his new book, but there were several pages in it that could easily give away everyone's secret identities.

For now, though, he was going to read those letters:

_Dear Dick,_

_Hey, Shorty! …Okay, okay, I'm sorry for calling you Shorty. I know you hate it, but it's so much fun, and you have to admit it's very fitting. Anyway, I'm sorry for constantly calling you something you hate (or at least pretend to hate)._

_But that's where my pity ends, Richard Grayson. I'm really, truly sorry that you're so sick, but don't expect me to start sobbing about it. I've already done that. Now it's time for the both of us to be strong. It's up to YOU to be better, nobody else — I'll be willing to help any way I can, but the decision is ultimately up to you. And if you decide to be well, you can count on me to back you up all the way._

_I know it won't be easy. I won't pretend like it will be, and I won't pretend like I know what you're suffering through. But you're a tough kid. And I know you've got what it takes to beat this thing. Go get 'em, Shorty!_

_Your friend,_

_Babs_

_P.S. I know I called you Shorty again. I'm sorry. I couldn't resist. Get used to it, because some things NEVER change!_

_-_

_Hey, Dick!_

_Well, looks like you've got yourself your first girlfriend, huh? Hehe._

_Now, Dickie, I know how you attached you are to ol' Anna. She must seem like one heckuva gal to you. I've had a couple of girlfriends like her before (I can hear you laughing, and you'd better stop). They always seem great at first, but then they end up all controlling, demanding everything from you and gettin' all jealous every time you try to see and do something with a REAL friend. Trust me, buddy—these girls are great-looking on the outside and way shallow on the inside._

_It's always hard to break up with these kinds of women, Dick, and I know you're gonna have a rough time tryin' to get Anna to leave you alone and go pester somebody else so you can go back to your own life. But hey. Challenges are what life's about, right, buddy? You'll get rid of her eventually, and then maybe you can find somebody who DESERVES you. Good luck, Wonder Breath!_

_Roy_

_-_

_Dick:_

_"Whether you think you can or you think you can't, you're right."_

_Henry Ford said that. I'm sure you know who he was. I thought it might help you to remember this quote whenever things get especially hard and you begin to doubt your abilities as you are so often wont to do. Maybe it will also help you to remember that we all have the utmost confidence that you will be able to make it through this. If you ever need anything — and I do mean anything — just call me. Get well soon, Dick!_

_Best Wishes,_

_Garth_

_-_

_To Dick, my dearest friend:_

_We have only known each other for a couple of years, but you've always been a wonderful person — so happy and cheerful, always smiling, always laughing. You could always make me smile. Then you went away and something took your place. Something angry and terrible, something I hated for hurting my best friend._

_I've watched you torture yourself for so long now, and it still breaks my heart every time I think about it. Ironically, it wasn't until you were taken away from us that I realized how much you meant to me and to everyone around you. I can't help but feel like I could have prevented this somehow by telling you how wonderful you are, and what a valuable member of the Titans you have been. Why do you think we made you the leader, Dick? You are by far the most talented of the group, and I would do anything to ease your pain and get you back._

_But I don't have the ability to do that. I know the past few months have been filled with pain and tears for you and the doctor has said that the recovery will be no different in that respect. But no matter how bad things get, rest assured that — like when you led the Titans — I will follow you anywhere. Just say the word._

_Love,_

_Donna_

_-_

_Hey there,_

_I've been sitting here at this table for the past hour, staring at my blank piece of paper and balancing my stupid pen on various body parts, wondering what I should say to you. I must have started at least a dozen letters. All of them are now crumpled up in the trash can. I bet the others aren't having this much trouble writing THEIR letters, and Garth probably came up with something earth-shatteringly brilliant in about two seconds._

_But you know me. I've never been much of a poet._

_Then I thought of something. I never actually thanked you for anything—for leading the Titans, for teaching me things, for being my friend, for just putting up with me all the time… gee, I never realized how long the list was! I guess I never really thought about it. It's about time I did._

_And that's all I wanted to say, I guess—just thanks. Just thanks for being you—meaning you're a great guy and don't you ever forget it or else!!_

_I'll visit you soon._

_Your pal Wally_

_-_

_Dick,_

_I'm sure you've noticed by now that I was the only one who didn't make a page for you in the scrapbook. I intended to, and I had plenty of ideas of what to put in them, too._

_But that was just the problem. I had too many ideas. And every time I tried to narrow them down to just a few, I'd get ten more ideas for each one I had eliminated. So I finally gave up and went out on patrol instead. Clark is still giving me disapproving looks for that, if it's any consolation._

_It's not that I didn't want to make those pages for you. I did. But you've been such a vital part of my life for so many years that it would be impossible to just single out one important event like that. I know that sounds cliché, but it's true. Now I know I've taken that for granted for too long._

_You know I've never been able to apologize or even express feelings very well, not to you or anybody else. I know this is a terrible fault of mine (there, I admit it. I'm not perfect). And I know I should have told you all of this long before now. I hope that, someday, maybe I'll be able to tell you this and a lot more that you deserve to hear. But for now, this will have to do._

_I hope you understand._

The last letter wasn't signed, but it didn't need to be. Dick knew who had written it. And by reading between the lines, he understood exactly what was being said.

"Sure. 'Someday, maybe'. Sure…"

Dick highly doubted that would ever happen. The poor guy tried—he really did—but as far as emotions went, he could be worse than Spock from the old _Star Trek_ series.

But he _tried_.

And that's what counted.

Dick's lips curved upward in a little smile as he reread the letter. A lot of effort had been put into that letter. He could tell. And just reading the precious note made him feel kind of… special. The way he used to feel whenever Batman would tell Robin that he'd done a good job on patrol.

Only _way _better.

---

"Happy New Year!" Speedy hollered.

He yanked on the ends of a party cracker, releasing several strings of colorful confetti into the air with a loud popping noise. Then he broke into a deafening and rather off-key rendition of 'Auld Lang Syne'.

Wonder Girl and Aqualad settled for plugging their ears, but Kid Flash reached over and gave the young archer a good hard shove off the chair. Speedy let out an extremely high-pitched yelp as he hit the floor. Wonder Girl and Kid Flash couldn't help but laugh while Aqualad tried not to. He was the leader now; he couldn't let Speedy know he was amused. That would seem like he was taking sides.

_How did Robin do it?_ he mused. _He always managed to laugh at everybody, even himself, without making it seem like he was siding with anyone._

Meanwhile, Speedy was not quite as amused as the others were. Muttering something threatening under his breath, Speedy clambered to his feet and stormed over to Kid Flash with the intention of beating him up. He might have succeeded if Kid Flash hadn't had his super speed.

"Nyah, nyah! You can't catch me!" the speedster chortled.

"Come now, you two," Aqualad tried to take control.

But Speedy, as usual, ignored him and yelled threats at Kid Flash, who continued to tease the archer while staying just one step out of reach.

"What, are you afraid to fight me? Scared you'll hurt yourself, Twinkletoes?" Speedy goaded.

Kid Flash glowered. Within seconds, he was standing nose-to-nose with Speedy. Nobody called him a coward and got away with it!

"Care to say that again, Arrow Breath?" he said dangerously.

"Alright, that will be quite enough," Aqualad commanded, still sounding unsure of himself. Speedy picked up on that instantly and gave the Atlantean a push.

"Stay outta this, Gillhead, it ain't none of your business!"

"You cannot talk to Aqualad that way!" yelled Wonder Girl.

"Ya know something, Wonder Chick? I think I just did!"

Aqualad sighed as the argument quickly escalated to war status. Kid Flash and Wonder Girl tried to talk (or shout) some sense into Speedy, who refused to give in.

He had to try to stop this. But how? Everything he'd tried in the past had failed miserably. If this kept up, the Teen Titans would have to be disbanded!

Aqualad was spared the agony of trying to stop the fight when something blurred past him, coming within inches of his nose and then curving around toward the others. He didn't have time to figure out what it was or where it had come from… but the next thing he knew, Speedy, Wonder Girl, and Kid Flash had been tied together with a strong rope. Wonder Girl easily escaped, but the rope promptly tightened around its remaining two prisoners.

"Hey!"

"What the!"

"That's what you get for disobeying the leader."

Aqualad whirled around to face the doorway, where a very familiar hero now stood, holding the rope securely in his gloved hands. He could already feel a smile spreading across his face as Wonder Girl cried out a gleeful "Robin!" and nearly knocked the boy down in her attempt to hug him.

"Argh! Um… alright, I missed you too! But you're, uh,"—He coughed—"kind of… strangling me, Wonder Girl…"

"Oh…"

She hastily loosened her grip on the Boy Wonder as Speedy and Kid Flash craned their necks to try to catch a glimpse of their former leader.

"What's going on back there?" Speedy hollered.

"Hey, Leader Man," Robin greeted Aqualad, ignoring Speedy's demand. "How're things going?"

"Much better, now that you have returned," Aqualad returned warmly, still smiling.

"Well don't start celebrating just yet. I'm still not quite ready to come back—I just thought I'd surprise you guys by popping in for a visit. Now I'm glad I did."

"Wow, great to see you again, Rob!" Kid Flash broke in happily. "Now would you mind letting us outta here? Please?"

"Do you promise to quit fighting each other?"

"We promise," the boys grudgingly mumbled.

"And do you promise to follow _all_ of Aqualad's orders until I come back?"

"FINE! Now will you untie us already?!" Speedy growled.

Robin laughed.

"Alright," he obliged. With a simple flick of his wrist, the rope went slack. Speedy and Kid Flash wasted no time in untangling themselves and walking over to Robin.

"Um, not to put pressure on you," Wonder Girl started, "but when do you think you will be able to return to the Titans?"

"You really want to know?"

"Well, like, _duh,_" Speedy said as everyone else just nodded.

"You really, _really _want to know?" Robin taunted, flopping backwards onto the couch.

"I _said_ duh. What more do you want?"

"Well in that case… I have absolutely no idea."

"What?"

"I don't," Robin repeated with a shrug. "When I'm ready, I'm ready. And right now, I'm not ready."

"You will tell us when you _are_ ready, won't you?" Wonder Girl inquired.

"Of course! In fact I wish I could come back right now, but Batman would strangle me. And let's not even discuss what Alfred would do."

"Why aren't you ready?" asked Kid Flash in a very small voice. "You seem pretty okay now, and if you want to come back, you should be able to. Um… right?"

"That's just the problem. I'm _not_ okay," Robin confessed. "I mean, I'm up to a fairly decent weight… but I'm not ready for the responsibility of leading the Titans just yet. I'm still… I still feel like I'll mess up and get one of you guys killed, okay?"

This last was spoken in a rush, as if he was embarrassed to admit it.

"Robin, we're all scared," Aqualad put in supportively. He took it as a good sign that the Boy Wonder was able to admit his fears aloud. "We just don't let it rule our lives. That's what being brave is—overcoming your fears."

"Yeah, I know… but up until recently, _I _was the leader. _I _assumed responsibility. And if I screwed up, it could really cost you."

"We _know_ there are risks, Short Pants," said Speedy. "We knew there were risks when we agreed to form the Titans in the first place."

"But we trust you," Wonder Girl finished up. "That is why we appointed you our leader. Because we can trust you, we _know_ we can trust you."

"Well, thanks," Robin said with a little smile, "but I still don't think I'm quite ready for all that responsibility yet. I can be your research assistant, though."

It took the Titans a moment to register that comment.

"Really?" Kid Flash cried in delight.

"Why not? Physically speaking, it's not very taxing, and this way I'll be able to keep my hand in until I can be leader again. Which reminds me. Aqualad, don't get too comfortable as leader, because I AM coming back—someday—and I don't want to have to beat you up over any mutinies. You got that?"

Aqualad smiled.

"I wouldn't want it any other way," he acknowledged.

The End

* * *

**There ya have it. A rather optimistic ending, I think. Hope ya'll liked it!! And if not, well, too bad. Thanks again for the reviews!**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**ShockMePeter-**To be honest, I'm not quite sure what it's about. Masochism, I think. O.o And I'm glad someone found the apple seed bit amusing; that was sort of the point. ;-)

**caltha-**Yeah, Ollie's the really evil one. It's his fault Speedy's a jerk half the time (or three-quarters of the time... okay, ALL the time). Aw, I wanna cuddle him now, too! That's never happened before...

**steelelf-**BruceDick sweetness is my favorite, too. (big grin) By the way, what's Fun Dip?

**kokomocalifornia-**I think he would, too, but I still probably should have asked. Anywho, yes, I'm afraid this is the end of the line for this story. Now I actually have to go and write something else...

**antiSTYX-**New reviewer! Yahoo, thanks! Here's that happy ending for you :) Yeah, I'm glad Speedy's feeling guilty, too (evil grin) But hey, I needed SOME reason to excuse his behavior, right?

**Adren-**That's good to know. I hope he lets you join. Hehe, you read that... (cough) I'm sorry you didn't like the ending. Looking back, that seemed cheesy too... oh well. And, well, he can still see in this one, so you don't have to worry (though if you're anorexic _and_ diabetic, it's possible that you could lose your sight... but I digress...)

**Balance in the Dark-**That was the scene from my uncle's song. Heh. Glad you liked.

**Gohanzgirl-**Yeah, updates! Thanks for reviewing :)

**They call me Bruce-**Thankies. I hope the length of this thing doesn't scare you away :-P

**PlatinumRoseLady-**Don't worry. Speedy acted a little like a jerk in this chapter. That oughtta make the transition a little easier, lol.

**steelphoenix-**That's a tactful way of putting things, but yeah, it sums it up nicely :) And, well, Bruce had to learn sometime. He's smarter than Speedy, so it would make him look bad if he didn't.

**CrazyInsomaniac-**Meh, that's okay. I had SATs today, so I understand (unfortunately). Oooh, yeah, put that gun away... if you shoot Dick, Bruce would probably go ballistic. On you. LOL :)


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